


Waiting On a Friend

by pennyroyalpoet



Category: Rock Music RPF, The Rolling Stones
Genre: 1966-1969, 60s, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bi-Curious Keith Richards, Bisexual Mick Jagger, Brian's a drug dealer, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Glimmer Twins - Freeform, High School, High School Tropes, It kinda switches between characters you can tell, M/M, Not references theres just literally drugs what else do you want, References to Drugs, Ronnie Wood - Freeform, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slow Burn, Teenage Drama, The Rolling Stones - Freeform, any year between those are appropriate if you wanna get an idea for their looks, bad boy, but - Freeform, im so sorry, it goes so much deeper than just bad boy and good boy, realistic personalities babey, teenage angst, these two again !!, yall r gonna have to wait like me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroyalpoet/pseuds/pennyroyalpoet
Summary: A silent and reserved art student, infatuated with the blues, guitars, boys, and girls, and everything that isn't Keith Richards.A rebellious, carefree, and sensitive boy, in love with the blues, guitars, girls, and boys, and everything that isn't Mick Jagger.Not the ideal combination, really.
Relationships: Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
Comments: 72
Kudos: 48





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliciasClarke (fyeahgila)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahgila/gifts).



> tw: q*eer, f*gg*t slurs used  
> language, bullying
> 
> love u guys always <3 here's my gift to pass the time in quarantine, also my first multi chap :)) 
> 
> i'll say this quick: i accidentally deleted the original copy of this yesterday, cried, and had literally no energy to rewrite it until today

Sometimes, if he was lucky, Mick would wake up early. Most of the time, though, Charlie would have to sway him awake.

It had become a daily routine of where Mick would constantly have to rely on his roommate, Charlie to wake him up. Sometimes, the former would find him tangled in the sheets with a pretty schoolgirl, sometimes he'd find him knocked out on the filthy wooden floors of their apartment room. Either way, Mick always seemed to end up being late for class, despite the situation Charlie would find him in during the early morning.

It was habitual, Mick supposed, but he desperately strived for improvement every day in order to make the remainder of the school year the best he possibly could. Charlie doubted him, frequently told him to bugger off with the possible concept, but he tried anyway. There were four months left in the semester, and only then was when Mick decided to truly get his shit together, it'd be meaningless if he hadn't tried. 

Mick's sleeping schedule and tardiness didn't completely represent his grades one bit nor his position in school; he was very bright, a quiet and artsy student who was very much enamored by old blues and everything else. In school, Mick would be played off as another quiet kid, nothing much special, which he really wasn't. In all reality, though, the boy was never as quiet as people claimed him to be, or as shy as people would think. 

He was still quite a hit with several of the schoolgirls that attended, yet was also a part of the more musical and artistic breed. Mick never did reveal his true personality, though. Never really got around to doing so, anyway. If other students categorized him with a group, he could care less. Behind Mick's somber, emotionless, and humble demeanor, there stood much more than what others wanted to comprehend about him.

Though, despite everything – and for some god forsaken reason – he always woke up late. 

"Mick! Get the fuck up, man! We're running late again, shit-"

Charlie's worried voice echoed throughout the small space and eventually found its way to Mick's bedroom where he was urged awake. Barely awake and still close to drifting off once more, Mick used his blurry vision to the best of his abilities and squinted at the clock on the wall. It read 6:50am; which, in plain view, would've seemed like a sigh of relief, but never was as the fucking clock was never right because it was old and lagged behind like Mick. 

Twenty minutes late. About twenty minutes, according to the clock, but Mick couldn't linger on it any longer and quickly darted out of bed, still slightly drowsy as he scrambled to his closet to change. Some black trousers and a light sweater would've seemed like the ideal outfit; casual, comfortable, and enough to bundle himself up from the cold London air. But instead, like all the others, there was no choice but to have to wear that stupid, stupid school uniform with the ugliest blazer and the layers of fabric.

Using the portion of the speed and strength he managed to muster up, Mick quickly hauled along his heavy guitar and case along with his bag and sketchpad. It was a disadvantage, no, a major disadvantage especially in school but he managed it anyway. Having to carry around at least three different things throughout an entire day was always admittedly draining for Mick, but he couldn't do much except carry them around and pray that no one would steal his guitar and ditch. 

After quickly packing up and running around, Mick found his way into the kitchen for a snack. He had a reason for waking up late; he had his head stuck in a book the night before, studying his ass off until he couldn't see straight. To add to the issue, he hadn't eaten that night up to that very morning, he wasn't in much of a mood to go without a bite. Again, another desperate shout, maybe an insult from Charlie rang out.

"You're as slow as your old man, Mick. Hurry the fuck up!"

For a brief second, with Charlie barely in his vision, Mick considered dropping it entirely, to go back to bed. But of course, Charlie was always terribly persistent. He was always like that. The guy was a fucking genius in school, probably even a jock, Mick couldn't fathom why Charlie would even want to share a room with him. Mick was a monkey at home, leaving behind a trail of clutter for Charlie to clean everywhere he walked. Mick was responsible, neat, and proper in school, but was chaos at home – leaving poor Charlie to have to babysit him nearly daily. 

And with Mick having a part time job after classes, he always left some kind of jumble back in his bedroom that his roommate felt obliged to clean almost all the time. When things officially crossed the line, it was when Charlie had announced to Mick that he had taken on the session gig drummer occupation, or whatever the hell he called it. Charlie's time at home was limited, so Mick had to start being responsible, which seemed like too much to ask for.

While trying to stall, Mick gave in anyway. He hastily dashed out the door while dragging along his belongings, managing to flip off Charlie before he took off in a straight line. Charlie had the honor of struggling to lock the door and tagged along with Mick, taking on a sprint as they began running along the wet streets of London. The cold morning chill pierced their exposed skin, both of their breaths coming out in flurries of clouds. Their school was thankfully about a block away, not too much of a distance but an immense hassle for the both of them, especially Mick. 

His breathing came out in ragged breaths of air, and Charlie simply laughed at him, still very much out of breath himself. It seemed to happen almost everyday too. One moment, Charlie would make fun of the weight of Mick's belongings being equivalent to that of an entire boulder. The next moment, he'd help him tow along his guitar without another word.

Eventually, with much effort, they reached the campus of the looming building of their school. Nearly stumbling up the stairs, Mick swung the door open and scrambled in after Charlie ran inside. The empty hallways weren't much of a difference from outside, Mick noticed as Charlie swiftly passed him his guitar case. A few students scattered into their classrooms, and Charlie took his leave, simply sending a salute to Mick as he departed, footsteps tapping up the stairs. Mick hurried to his own room after sharing his farewell, shoes clacking against the cold, hard tiles of the school's interior. 

In a moment, he was facing the dark wood door of his first classroom, and ran his knuckles along the surface before giving a few knocks. Scattering was heard from inside until the muted sound of footsteps eventually made its way to the door. As it swung open, of course, Mick was met with a lazy grin framed by golden blond hair. Brian Jones, the teacher's pet during class, and the drug dealer during lunch, whomst Mick had the pleasure to know.

Brian was an odd guy. A stoner, yeah, close to earning the title of a crack addict. Supposedly he was quite proud of it. When not in class and sweetening up to the teachers, he'd often be found under the staircase with god knows what; Mick and a few others knew though, what Brian did. He was almost always as high as a kite, his dazed expression always accompanied by a sly, cat-like grin and lazy, droopy eyes. Mick had met Brian by chance one day, earlier in the semester. Mick had happened to be sketching out one of his favorite musicians, and Brian, being all in everyone's business, decided he liked the drawing. They'd began talking about the blues and immediately created a bond; not quite a friendship, but also not just acquaintances. Mick did enjoy Brian's presence, Brian did enjoy it when he wanted to. Brian was like that; he could be the sweetest guy one second, and an absolute asshole if you pulled anything smug on him.

"Late again, Jagger?" He whispered at Mick, who simply passed him with a heavy sigh.

"Can it, Jones." 

With a skip in his step and a smirk, Brian followed him along and sat at his desk next to Mick. The latter attempted to stay out of view and avoid any suspicion from the teacher, not wanting to run into any trouble for being late again. Go on with the lesson, he prayed, staying completely silent except for when he leaned down slightly to keep all his belongings underneath his desk. A sliver of hope was instilled in Mick, until he heard the god awful familiar slap of the ruler on his own desk. He nearly jumped out of his skin as his gaze darted up to meet the stern, button eyes of his teacher. He smelled of rum and of all things bad, he reeked of sweat and body odor, and Mick wanted to throw up right then and there. Accusing eyes behind thick lens eyed him grimly, and Mick trembled as he awaited possible punishment.

"Why are you late, Micheal?" his teacher's voice boomed, plump figure looming at the edge of the desk, almost taunting.

Mick grimaced at the use of his actual name. "I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again." was the simple answer from Mick, almost desperate to dismiss his teacher and make him proceed with the lecture. Mick wasn't much in the mood to argue or start swinging, so he averted his daunted gaze in hopes of making the teacher leave.

Which, he did, but it seemingly took too much effort for him to do so. With a scoff, the man finally turned around and the cat was thankfully off Mick's tail. It left Mick to fume and overthink, which ultimately led to him whipping out his smaller sketchbook and sketching away furiously. Aside from the loud voice that rang out at the front of the classroom, frantic scribbling on parchment was audible. About ten minutes into the lecture, Brian had leaned over to see what Mick was occupied with. Mick could see his curious gaze and the blond hair at his peripheral vision, Brian's fingers curled onto his desk. There were doodles littered across the paper, some being of the backs of people's heads, and the rest being guitars. 

As soon as the lesson drew closer to its end, leaving about fifteen minutes left on the clock, everyone felt it necessary to loosen up. Scattered, but hushed chatter formed amongst the relatively quiet classroom. Once Mick had filled at least three pages, he gazed over at Brian – yes, of course he was taking acid. It seemed to be a daily ritual of his, take a trip at least twenty minutes before the lecture ended. Mick prayed for a good trip. The last time he'd taken acid, Brian had the brightest idea to do it during the beginning of class and had no self-control the entire lecture. Mick had to drag him to the office, and he wasn't planning on doing that again. Wasn't it too early? Apparently it never was for Brian.

With the lecture reaching its completion, students began pushing in chairs and noisily making their way to their next class. Mick was still teetering on whether to offer to help Brian to their next class or to assume he was alright. Brian seemed to reject any form of assistance, though, claiming he could handle the trip and that he'd follow along soon. Once Brian's mind was clear and not as foggy, they both started off for their second class. The second lecture cut everyone slack. The instructor was a sweet old lady, Mrs. Brown, and she was always warm and comforting with the class. Though it did lead to students abusing the privileges she gave them, she still kept a loving smile on her face. Mick often studied beforehand for the class, so it wasn't much of a hassle to keep attentive during the lesson. Yes, truly a dream class; Brian could get as high as he wanted to, and Mick could sketch with no interruptions. Though, there was one force that drove against the whole concept of the class being even remotely peaceful, and it was someone that Mick happened to absolutely despise.

Keith Richards.

Even the mention of his name made Mick feel unbelievably sick. Keith was a jock, no, not just a jock; a teddy boy, a rockstar wannabe, a rebel, a troublemaker, and an all around asshole. Keith was unbearable, especially to Mick. Feeling it necessary to pick on the especially vulnerable breed of the school, Keith did it all. He would nag at Mick during the classes they shared, cause mischief during school, and whatever else others found irritating, he did. The guy in looks didn't appear to be all too menacing, though. He was often seen leaning against the wall, jabbering away with the rest of his posse, who Mick believed was as equally as terrible as him. A leather jacket always over his uniform Mick originally got to know about him after Brian began small talk about him. Brian had several clients, Keith was obviously one of them. It wasn't much of a friendship, more of an acquaintance deal, but Keith always treated Brian as if he had known him since birth. Sometimes, Mick wished Brian never told him about Keith. Because now, the guy wouldn't stop picking on him. 

There wasn't much time to linger on the thought as they were both entering the classroom, Brian tagging behind Mick. Lo and behold, the first thing in his sight was the man himself, sitting upon a desk and chatting away with his arm slithered around his pretty blond girlfriend; Anita, or whatever her name was. Mick could already tell Brian was gritting his teeth at the display. Keith, just when they thought he couldn't be more of an ass, stole Brian's bird. Mick would've surely dropped any sort of connection immediately, but Brian always convinced himself that he needed to focus on the cash rather than on himself.

Eventually, Mick took a desk at the second to last row, taking the desk closest to the window. Mindless talking came from all sides of the classroom, which wasn't much to care about as their teacher hadn't walked in yet. Brian had taken the seat in front of Mick and chatted with him for a while before turning back around and dozing off. Typical. Mick reached back for his sketchbook and began drawing once more, warming up a bit before creating anything serious. He hadn't noticed when Mrs. Brown walked in, or when he heard the chair behind him scrape against the floor. Paying not much attention to it, Mick decided to avert his focus back to the board instead.

Nearly twenty minutes into the lesson, Mick felt a gentle slap at his back, but tried to brush it off as nothing. Some quiet chuckling came from behind him, but again, no response came from Mick. He smelled smoke. It was ignored once more. Worksheets were being passed out, and Mick focused on everything else except for what was possibly happening behind him. Golden guy Brian roamed across the room handing out presumably simple worksheets, giving Mick a nudge once he handed him his paper. The noise eventually transitioned back to silence, a few hushed whispers here and there. Almost everyone worked meticulously at their own worksheet, well, everyone except for whoever kid was behind Mick.

The paper was fairly easy, so he set it to the and decided to sketch again for the remaining twenty minutes of class time. Brian was fast asleep once more. The cat behind Mick was getting more and more intolerable as time passed on. Mick had decided to shake his head slightly; only to be met with a heap of ashes pouring from his hair and onto his desk. Mick had enough. He turned around to encounter the same boy he had mentally complained about earlier; his ruffled dark hair framed his shit-eating expression and grin, and it drove Mick up the wall, nearly drained away at his sanity. Well, not only was Keith a dickhead, but he also very much looked like one.

"What do you want, man?" Mick said simply, not wanting to say anything overboard. A brief pause.

"Leave me be, yeah? Can't have some fuckin' quiet from some gits like you." Keith shot back, cigarette dangling from between his lips as he eyed Mick.

That shut up Mick, yeah, but it also rekindled the fire within him. Ten minutes left of class – even Mick himself believed he couldn't bear it. Mick had turned back around in his seat to avoid any further interaction with the guy. Hiding away in his sketchbook seemed like the most preferred method of avoiding confrontation anyway. Oh, how badly Mick wanted to turn around again and show that piece of shit how to properly curse someone out. Without even facing him, he could tell Keith was snickering like a child, getting the absolute amusement out of all of this.

While spacing off, a figure appeared at the side of Mick's vision, leaning over his shoulder to gaze at his sketchbook. Almost instantly, he took notice and attempted to quickly stash away his drawings. It was Keith, yet again.

"Sod off. These aren't for you." Mick said simply, expression hardening as he faced Keith.

The guy was strangely close. Keith laughed, head tilting back lazily, and stood up before making his way to the front of Mick's desk. His hands gripped on the edge of the hard wood, and he loomed over Mick, scanning over him almost threateningly. He reminded Mick of his first class teacher; only minus the rum smell.

"Don't act as if you're something, queer. 'Cos you're not. Piss off." Keith sneered, finishing off his statement by forcefully pushing the desk closer to Mick's chest. Mick's breath hitched, and the bell rang.

Keith eventually retreated, leaving Mick to bask in whatever the hell he left him with. Anger, perhaps, nothing more, nothing less. He glanced up, catching a brief view of the swarming students, and a cloud of smoke following Keith as he left the room. It infuriated Mick impossibly more, but he couldn't let their encounter ruin the day completely. Before leaving, he checked up on Brian who wanted some 'fucking quiet' and went back to sleep once Mick left. Mick only departed after staying at least ten minutes with the other boy, wanting to make sure Brian was completely sober before he headed to the next class. Once he gathered his belongings and left, the latter headed through the hall that streamed with students. Mick decided to take the time to freshen up a bit and took a detour to the closest restroom. Appearing to be empty from the outside, Mick took a relieved sigh and entered the cold bathroom, setting his possessions to the side. He took a stand in front of one of the sinks, gazing into his reflection in the mirror as he washed his face off.

Not seeming to notice at first, but most definitely noticing afterwards, the stall behind him shook violently. Mick did take notice of some noises coming from that specific stall beforehand, but didn't pay much focus to it. He grimaced. Loud moans and heavy grunts came from inside the locked stall as the door continued to rattle. 

"Keith- ah, baby, fuck-"

Ah, of course. Mick wanted to throw up and leave. He couldn't comprehend how the guy was able to get up and make enough time to shag his girl between classes. Mick tried desperately to mind his own business, but it was if their noises were pleading for him to direct his attention back on the shaking stall. With a gulp, Mick finished washing his face off, and quickly retreated from the sink to collect his belongings. Almost immediately after, Mick not knowing why it was so conveniently during while he was trying to leave, Anita scurried out of the stall, adjusting her skirt as she passed him. 

Something felt lodged in Mick's throat as he dropped his sketchpad, of course the thing had to be so fucking large. Upon whipping his head back around to catch a glimpse of the exit, Keith blocked Mick's view, more intimidating than ever. Mick kept up his cold front and stepped to the side in an attempt to avoid any possible conflict. He had never felt any form of intimidation when encountering Keith, but more of a lingering irritation and annoyance simply by seeing his face.

"Are you trying to run into me, man? You must be obsessed with me." Keith said, voice low as he cornered Mick.

Mick wasn't. He was deliberately trying to get away from him, really. But instead of saying so, he decided to stay silent and kept eye contact with Keith.

"Fuck off outta here." And that was it, Keith's final threat.

The former scoffed and backed away before flicking his cigarette at Mick's face. No response as per usual. Once he knew Keith was finally gone, Mick collected his things and headed for the next class. The hallways were deathly silent. He dreaded it further. Two more classes with him. Not too big of a deal.

Lunch eventually came in a blur, the crowds of students surrounding the canteen indicating that it was finally free time. Mick had navigated his way through the crowded hallways, hoping to find some peace amongst the littered space. After picking up a light tuna sandwich, he rushed outside, pushing through just to get to the exit. The cold, crisp air hit Mick's face as he headed for his usual perch. The yard was always open and available during free time, and it was a reliable escape for most, especially Mick. It extended around the school, fenced off from the outside, but the grassy fields that stretched from among that point was still very much visible. There were rows of benches that stood among a path where students often walked, usually to indulge in the fresh air or to take a smoke. Away from the rest of the students who stood outside, a tree stood to the side, somehow hidden away by the rest of the larger ones. It was fairly small, but still was tall enough to provide steady sunlight during the summer. A large stone was always underneath it, and Mick would sit there for the duration of lunch, only if he wasn't with Brian and getting high under another tree.

This tree in particular held meaning for Mick. It was his own special getaway. During autumn, he would sketch the heaps and piles of leaves gathered around due. In the summer heat, he would sketch out the girls (and occasionally, boys) in their summer uniforms. In the winter, he'd find just as much peace in any other season and would sketch away to his heart's content.

Mick finally took his seat at the large rock, patting the side gently before he began eating at his tuna sandwich. He averted his gaze up to look at the tall, brick exterior of the school, wondering if he'd be able to sketch it out. Mick had eventually finished off the sandwich and tossed the clear wrapper to the side, only to reach for his bag as he did so. In the outer side pocket of his pack, he'd usually keep his large sketchpad inside it. Instead, taking its' place were two records, both Muddy Waters albums.

Mick worked part time at a record shop after school to earn a bit of cash. He always checked in after school, and would occasionally pop by during the weekends to take a couple and bring them home, free of charge – as long as he brought them back at the start of the week. Mick didn't complain. He had still felt awfully privileged to have such a convenient and wide array of records just a walk away from his apartment. He supposed that working there came with its' benefits. 

Upon sliding out the records and laying them onto the grass, Mick couldn't help but to catch sight of a few boys crowded at the farther end of the fence that surrounded the schoolyard. They all wore leather jackets, and most of them had odd hairstyles except for a couple. Mick could never understand the craze over the teddy boy look, but he tried not to think of such as it always reminded him of that terrible Keith Richards. Mick tried his absolute hardest to not pay any business to the loud laughter that erupted from the group – or how it slowly transitioned to staring and whispering. Mick dismissed his thoughts and reached for his guitar case, revealing his jumble of wood that he called his acoustic guitar. He had named it Angie immediately after getting it as a gift from Charlie. Though it was an admittedly shitty guitar, Mick still loved it dearly and planned to play it for as long as he could.

The beautiful sound that flowed from deep within the instrument seemed to attract several students, mostly consisting of girls, towards Mick. He refused any song requests and ignored every greeting. He disliked getting interrupted while getting lost in his guitar, the strings, the sound. Another group approached while Mick wasn't paying any focus. He prayed that it would be another group of schoolgirls. It wasn't.

"The faggot knows how to play guitar. Which boy are you trying to serenade, huh? C'mon, tell us. Tell us about it. We won't tell." A voice piped up as the group in question surrounded Mick.

Mick looked up to see them ganging up on him at all sides. Surprisingly, Keith stood to the side, eyeing him fully from above.

"Look. Kid's got some records. Let's take a look, shall we?" Another chuckled and leaned down to snatch the records from the ground before Mick could react. They all laughed lightly.

Upon passing the records around, most of their faces contorted into disgust.

"Who the fuck is this guy? Do you really listen to this old bluesy shit? You oughta get a bit of Elvis in your life, man." One spat at Mick, the latter reacting by simply gazing up at them emotionlessly, eyes slightly glossy.

"Why won't you talk, prick? Don't be such a fucking coward."

"Your music is rubbish, fuck off, yeah?"

Voices chimed in, one after another, here and there; all too much for Mick to take in and process at once. Mick could see Keith in his peripheral, who simply stared, letting the torture proceed.

"C'mon, Keithy. Snap the records. Show the queer what real music is, and not some shitty blues."

Keith made his first move, taking the records from another boy. He still hadn't looked down properly, Mick noticed, he still hadn't seen the records yet. He stayed silent. Mick was aware of the incoming damage, and yet, he still stayed deathly quiet.

"Snap 'em, Keith." Another voice encouraged, all eyes fixated on him.

Keith laughed and looked down at the records before going completely quiet. He turned one of them around, eyes scanning over the case as he stayed silent, causing the rest of his posse to wonder what had happened.

"You don't like that trash, do you? You couldn't like blues. It's always been rock and roll, man."

And yeah, maybe among the group.  
Still, no response.  
Mick watched in both awe and confusion as Keith seemed to had stopped time for himself; just to take a better look at the records. He had even looked up every now and then, gazing at Mick in some kind of wonderment then back at the records.

"Richards! Fucking snap them already!"

Crack.

Each piece fell to the ground, creating an audible thud in Mick's eardrums each time he saw one hit the floor. A few of the boys had cheered in some sick celebration, and a few others had stayed hushed, seemingly fazed by what had happened prior to the records being broken. Once they began to take their leave, each boy retreating back to their spot, Mick kneeled down and began to quietly pick up the shattered pieces.

He knew Keith was still there.

"What the fuck do you want, Keith?"

Keith took that as the final word, and left, taking a few occasional glances at Mick and at the Muddy Waters cases that were strewn on the grass. Mick watched as he strolled back to the group, hands fumbling to get in his leather jacket's pockets. Mick wanted to die right then and there. He would've preferred that over enduring that scenario again.

He hated those stupid, stupid boys. Stupid bloody school. Stupid, stupid, stupid Keith Richards.


	2. Dead Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith figures out a way to apologize to Mick the day after. Unexpected reactions and even more conflicting emotions spring up.

"What's all this, then?"

Ronnie, hands on hips, examined the mess that was showcased before him. It wasn't often he saw records in such a bad state, or in other words, completely wrecked. A few cases came in earlier that week; either of dents or minor scratches on a few records here and there, but here this was – whatever mess it was – presented right in front of him. From his own employee.

Mick fidgeted quietly, wringing his hands out almost apologetically. He'd stayed quiet the entire time he walked into the record store, shamefully hiding the remains of the records in his bag. It was all neatly spread out onto the front counter, each piece barely connecting to where it used to be. Ronnie, his boss, his friend – was in awe. Mick had expected the reaction, obviously, but was awaiting the final boot from the store completely. He simply couldn't comprehend how Ronnie was always so tolerant with him.

"Oh, c'mon Ron- I told you already, a few cats from school pulled some shit and Keith had to go and snap these up." Mick pleaded for forgiveness; even though he knew he would get it somehow.

"I get it Mick, I do, but how many times have I told you about bringing a couple of records home each weekend? You listen to them at home, not at school." Ronnie shot back, though his tone was still very much calm.

Mick sighed exaggeratedly; the entire scenario was almost as if he was getting a lecture from his father. Ronnie was often like that.

The two had first met surprisingly through someone that Mick wasn't very fond of: Keith. Ronnie was known throughout town as one of the few lads who played at almost every pub and collected every record possible. Keith had discovered him first, by chance, too. Ronnie had played a few sessions alongside Keith, and the two instantly formed a bond thanks to the connection of their guitars that welded them together. 

Keith had mentioned Mick one day, lost in a train of thoughts; he had skipped classes and they were getting high behind the school, Ronnie could vividly remember. Keith sputtered out something about Mick, about the boy with "decent music taste" and "nice brown hair." When Ronnie asked further about him, Keith snapped out of whatever trance his high had gotten him on, and simply told him he was another art kid from school.

From then on, Ronnie got to meeting Mick and they became close friends. Ronnie always acted like a father figure towards Mick; always protective. Mick always questioned why he was still friends with his personal burden. Ronnie always simply said, "he has some good tastes, that guy, a good guitarist as well."

Though, given the situation and what Mick had told him in the past, Ronnie figured he'd have to talk to Keith eventually. Ronnie appeared to dismiss the situation quietly and gathered what was left of the records. "You should go home now, Mick. I'll deal with Keith. Promise me that this'll never happen again." He stated sternly, his tone strict.

Mick nodded fast and took it as the chance to leave quietly, slipping out the door and running back to his flat. Ronnie wondered how the kid got along.

It was near evening when Keith left the school. Like usual, one of his mates had snuck in a few bottles of cheap beer into his bag – they ended up trashing one of the restrooms and wreaking havoc inside a classroom. They'd be told out somehow, someone would've heard or caught a glimpse of the chaos anyway. Not that Keith cared. He couldn't care about much at that moment. 

He was still full of booze, throat dry and warm as he stumbled across the sidewalk. The sun was just barely disappearing behind the looming buildings that stood over Keith as he mindlessly staggered. He leaned up against a brick wall of one of the buildings, couging a bit as the evening chill began to slowly creep up on him. He was nowhere near his apartment yet, but thankfully, some light from a nearby establishment drew him in.

Keith couldn't really make much of his surroundings, so he had practically entered blindly, trying to familiarize the interior. 

Fuck. It was the record shop.

Unfortunately, the door bell rattled as Keith made even the slightest contact with it. His arm practically flew across as he tried to swing open the door for a swift exit, but was instead met by Ronnie's hand. Completely cornered, he surrendered and put his hands up, facing Ronnie and sighing.

"It's late, Keith. Why are you here?"

Keith didn't want an interrogation, but it was Ronnie, so he tried his best to answer just to finally leave.

"Blitzed. Didn't know where I was going." He murmured in reply, avoiding Ronnie's gaze.

The latter drew out a heavy sigh and began making his way to the front counter, gesturing Keith to follow him. The former surprisingly tagged along; it would be a grave mistake to simply walk out right then and there. Keith felt like he knew what was coming, but wasn't completely sure. Ronnie faced him from behind the counter before leaning over to get something, whatever it was. He leaned back up again and set out the shattered pieces of the records that had Keith's destruction written all over it.

Keith swallowed down his fear. Ronnie glanced back up with that same piercing and accusing glare, eyeing Keith down as if it would bring him to admit to it instantly. He knew that Keith did it, of course, but Ronnie had felt the need to draw out some extra answer or response from him too. He was met with silence, however, so he attempted to catch Keith's attention back to reality.

"I dunno, man. I didn't do it." Keith lied after another brief silence.

Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Mick came in here earlier. You know he works here, right?" Ronnie sighed and watched Keith's face contort into that of surprise before adding, "I promised I'd deal with you."

Keith scoffed. He figured the kid would rat him out anyway. "Well," he thought for a moment, "is there anything I can do to shake you both off my tail?"

Ronnie scoffed, thinking whatever Keith could've been offering just to get let off the hook would suffice. Then, he realized he couldn't really do much else. Keith broke a few records, yeah, not good, so what could he get as a consequence? Not necessarily thinking up a consequence, but more of an apology, Ronnie chipped in a request. "Buy one or two records and give them to Mick."

Keith stared on, expression twisting into pure perplexity. "Give them to him? Fuck, can't you do it, Ron?"

Ronnie chuckled at how Keith hadn't attempted to question the rest of his request. "Or anonymously. I dunno. Ask someone to give it to him. Think about it yourself. You broke his records."

"Technically, he doesn't pay for them, does he?" Keith sputtered.

"Well, no, not exactly–" Ronnie got cut off by a frantic Keith once more.

"Then shouldn't this all be on him? He shouldn't have brought them if he didn't buy them–"

"Keith! You broke the records. You pay for them." And Ronnie left it at that; brought the entire conversation to its conclusion.

Keith huffed and dug around in his jeans' back pocket, hoping to feel a few pounds left over. Ronnie knew it was hopeless once he saw Keith come up empty-handed, so he resorted to what he believed was right. Ronnie made his way over to the blues section, thumbing through the stack just as he faced it. Keith followed behind almost bashfully, jamming his hands in the pockets of his worn-out leather jacket as he eyed Ronnie. The former turned around eventually, holding up what seemed to be a Jimmy Reed record. Keith's eyes appeared to light up, but otherwise he stayed quiet, not wanting to fuss over it too much.

"Give this to Mick tomorrow. I trust you, Keith. Do whatever other shit with this and I'll make sure you never step foot inside this building again." Which, seemed like the best threat from Ronnie, as Keith replied with a nervous nod.

As Keith took the record gingerly and proceeded to retreat, Ronnie chimed in with something more.

"Oh, Keith; try to apologize too, yeah?"

The next morning, Keith was up early, bustling throughout the bedroom. His roommate, Bill Wyman, rose up from the commotion, still clearly clouded by fatigue.

"Why," Bill slurred sleepily, sitting up barely in bed as he watched Keith move about on the other side of the room, "why are you up so fuckin' early?"

That was Bill. The silent, mysterious kid who in reality, was a pain in the ass roommate and a prick when he wanted to be. Keith often found himself copying Bill's laziness, or seemingly careless characteristics. After all, the guy lived with him, it was normal. They had met on a rather "unwilling" note. Keith had to look for a roommate to help him pay and even keep a roof over his head, and Bill, being a few years older with a steady job was the perfect choice. Yeah, he was able to pay; but god, he was a terrible roommate sometimes. They both had their share of being the terrible roommate, so Keith tried his best not to complain.

"Getting ready for school." Keith replied quick, barely shooting a glance at Bill as he peeled off his shirt.

Bill groaned and buried his face into his hands as he yawned. Either Keith had gone completely insane, found another bird he wished to impress, or wanted to get drunk before he got to school. Whatever the situation was, though, it fucked up Bill's sleep and he felt the lingering urge of wanting to punch Keith unconscious just so he'd be quiet. Instead of doing so, however, Bill eyed the record that sat on Keith's bed. He curiously reached over and examined it, running a finger over the case.

"Jimmy Reed? You listen to this?"

Keith looked back up in confusion before his eyes widened. He quickly rushed to Bill's side and yanked the record out of his hand. "Uh, no, I was gonna return it to someone today." 

Bill watched on in visible perplexion, but stayed quiet. "Yeah, yeah, alright." He yawned once more and turned back to his side so that his back was facing Keith.

Without another word, Keith hastily took the rest of his belongings, and hurried off to school, hauling along his bag and carrying the record close.

As soon as he arrived, a few students were scattered across the campus, a couple waiting for the bell or some waiting for their friends at the gate. Keith seemed to avoid any interaction, and kept his path on the entrance. It was freezing anyway, it was far too early and he wanted a bit of a warmth. As soon as he reached the front doors, he swung them open with some unexpected force, and quickly made his way inside, searching for a specific locker. Upon doing so, he realized one thing: he didn't know where Mick's locker was. He scanned the endless rows, but alas, it wouldn't do anything since they were all the fucking same. Stupid identical lockers. Keith had to look for Brian.

Like expected, Brian was perched under the staircase, smoking a fresh new pack of cigarettes, leaned back comfortably. Keith found him exactly like that. He had to find a way to snap Brian out of whatever thoughts he was buried in.

"Brian. Bri." He hissed, shaking him at his shoulder.

Brian gazed up under hooded eyelids, staring at Keith with an unspoken laziness.

"Brian. Where's Mick's locker?"

Brian responded with visible confusion as he took another cigarette and lit it. "Two lockers from the left of mine, why–"

Without another word, Keith dashed away, not even bothering to thank Brian. The blond watched as he ran off, shoes clicking loud against the tiles as he did. Something was off; but Brian wasn't sure if he had the drive to care or not. Once Keith had reached Brian's locker first, he moved two to the left and was suddenly face to face with Mick's locker. It was odd how he didn't bother to look first, as Mick's locker somehow seemed to stand out from the rest. 

It had marker doodles all over the surface, little drawn creatures coming out of the locker's slots. In the very center was Mick's initials written on. So, Mick did graffiti. Apparently he wasn't such an angel after all, but then again, it was just graffiti, and Keith was overanalyzing it for some stupid reason. He took no more time to waste and quickly slid in the record and a small note afterward inside the larger slot of the locker. Keith prayed it wouldn't go too bad. He ran a hand down the cold, steel surface and left.

The school day went by rather quickly. Keith was antsy. In each of his classes, Mick had only seemed to stray further away from him; Keith was unsure of whether he checked his locker in the morning or not, but even if he did, clearly his apology didn't play out as he planned. Throughout the day, Keith would try to catch Mick's eye subtly, but ended up getting nothing out of it. Maybe he was expecting something from the other. Maybe some form of forgiveness so he wouldn't have to stress about it too much. Keith was frustrated. Irritated. He wanted to get it over with so he could successfully go back to Ronnie and tell him he cleared things up. Anita noticed his behavior at lunch.

"Babe, are you alright?" She asked eventually.

They were sat on one of the benches, terrifyingly close to where Mick's spot was at. His mates sat to the side, trying to look intimidating to anyone who passed. Anita curled up closer to Keith.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright." Keith replied plainly, not much of a reaction to what Anita was doing.

She hummed and quietly slid her hand from his chest to his thigh. Still, no reaction. It struck Anita as suspicious as she pulled away, dismissed by her boyfriend's sudden behavior.

The bell rang much quicker than expected, and the last few classes were taken in a breeze; well, except for Keith. He fidgeted and fumbled around during the remaining hours, trying to avert his thoughts from the record and the note. What if he fucked it up further? He'd return empty-handed to Ronnie yet again. Without Mick's stupid forgiveness, or some shit. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to punch Mick. The feeling increased as the final bell rang, indicating dismissal. Keith hated how he spent so much of his time just in order to get some kid's forgiveness.

Brian. Shit. He had to talk to Brian again. Brian would've known. He knew everything anyways. He would've asked Mick about it. Keith couldn't face the guy directly, but he could always ask Brian; who was conveniently at the gate – talking to Mick.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Keith murmured under his breath as he tried to avoid them both immediately after seeing Mick accompanying Brian. Too late.

Brian waved his hand and gestured for Keith to come over. The latter used everything in him to not go over to where they were. But he did, anyway.

"Keith! Where's Anita?" Brian finally chirped up, mood surprisingly bubbly as he greeted the other.

Mick stood to the side, leaning up against the gate as he crossed his arms, his gaze somewhere else. Keith tried to ignore him.

"She, uh, she went home." He replied almost quietly.

Brian nodded, squinting his eyes slightly as if he was searching Keith's face for something. "Alright then. Well, I ought to get going. See you two tomorrow." With that, he started off for the exit, leaving both Mick and Keith together. His departure was rather quick.

Keith's voice was caught in his throat. Shit. Brian planned this out. He knew it. That cheeky prick.

Silence between the two of them.

"So," Mick spoke up after clearing his throat, "how are you?"

Keith was rather taken aback by the question, but he answered after a short silence. "I'm- I'm good. You?"

"I'm fine." More silence after that response.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Mick began digging around in his bag for something. Keith watched each of his movements curiously, bracing himself for the possible worse. Maybe he'd return the record and the note, completely turn him down. Ronnie would kill him. Keith felt like he was awaiting the rejection to a stupid love confession.  
Mick pulled out his smaller sketchbook, opened it, and began flipping through the pages. He passed his bag to Keith to get through it easier, assuming the other would take it; which, he did. 

Keith gulped down the dryness that seemed to stick to his throat permanently. After finally reaching the desired page, Mick tore it out and gave it to Keith, trading it with his bag. It was folded into a small square, which Keith took without actually opening. He stuffed it into his jeans' front pocket and looked back up at Mick. The former gazed back, no sign of anything potentially bad written on his face. He offered a small smile and walked off, leaving Keith to wonder if his "peace request" worked. Not wanting to actually pull out the paper and see it for himself, he began walking home too, wanting to clear the event from his mind completely until he reached his apartment.

Mick strolled back to his flat rather peacefully; the stroll could be described as that. He felt as if all the weight on his shoulders were taken off instantly as soon as he handed Keith that paper.

Mick entered his bedroom, avoiding Charlie's shouts as he flopped onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling, clutching onto his new record.

"Mick! Christ, I swear, you're deaf- what's that?" Charlie entered the bedroom and sat down at Mick's bed, looking down at the record he was holding.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Someone."

"Oh, c'mon, tell me. Secret admirer? A girl with a good taste in music–"

Mick stopped him. "Keith Richards."

Charlie froze, mouth opening slightly in awe as he stared down at Mick. "Keith- Keith Richards? As in one of those cats? Teddy boy leader-?"

Mick shrugged. "He really doesn't live up to those titles. He just seems like a coward, honestly."

Charlie didn't bother responding to that. He simply took the note that sat to the side, the one that Mick had gotten with the record. He began reading it out loud, only skipping a few parts.

"I'm sorry for breaking your records... consider this an apology... we're not friends but please forgive me.." Charlie whistled, "Man, maybe the guy isn't so bad. He seemed to take it maturely."

Mick laughed softly. "You're kidding? It's obvious Ronnie set him up. He said he'd deal with him somehow. The guy's pathetic, he probably just didn't want to take shit from Ron."

Charlie stayed silent, pondering Mick's response. "Well, you might be right." He said quietly, looking off thoughtfully. "You gonna talk to him?" He added.

Mick hesitated for a second. "I did, but it was barely a conversation." He waved his hand off. "I'll see if I wanna talk to him in the future."

"Oh my fucking god! He actually drew you!" Bill laughed hysterically, tossing the small paper to the side.

Keith fumed in both embarrassment and anger. He swung at Bill's stomach, and instead landed a hit at his thigh, which the former responded with a loud groan. This was not what Bill represented. He was the epitome of a reserved businessman, a quiet huntsman. Not a fucking hyena. Bill tried to catch his breath as he continued to break out in laughter, falling back onto his bed as he clutched at his stomach. 

"Oh, oh shit." He stopped laughing, and looked at Keith who picked up the paper, a serious glare still aimed at Bill. "What, you gonna ask him out next?"

"Shut the fuck up. Actually shut the fuck up, Bill-" Keith stammered.

He was met with more laughter, only it died out quickly after Keith striked Bill in the stomach properly. As soon as his fist collided with Bill's stomach, the latter laid back with a wheeze and stayed quiet, watching Keith pace around the bedroom. He had the paper in his hands, slightly crumpled. A simple doodle of Keith was on it; it was terribly, terribly good, too.

The angle was accurate, almost everything about it was. It seemed that Mick had sketched him during class when he hadn't known it, a side profile. Keith wasn't sure what to feel. He was very much relieved, though. Relieved to know that this was some kind of forgiveness; relieved to know that Ronnie's plan worked out for him. It was strange to Keith, though, how Mick was able to create such a thing without him being aware of it. He felt odd. 

And of course Bill had to act childish towards it. Keith dreaded telling him, but Bill was persistent and kept nagging at Keith until he did. Speaking of Bill; he was saying something, but Keith had been too caught up with his thoughts to pay attention.

"Keith. Keith. You should talk to him."

Keith looked at Bill as if he was the stupidest looking creature on Earth. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"We're still strangers, Bill. He stays on his side, I stay on mine-"

"Cut that bullshit, it's not like you can pick on him again," Bill gazed at him from under his dark fringe, shadows casted on his face from the lamp. "You're gonna talk eventually. Gonna have to deal with being friends with him."

Keith shuddered. He still couldn't imagine being friends with Mick. But Bill had a point; after all this, he couldn't really pull shit on Mick again, it would be pointless. They both apologized, and Ronnie was keeping a close eye. Keith figured that, whatever was thrown at him, he'd deal with, and if he'd had to fake being Mick's friend, he would. Only, not publicly; more,, subtly. He couldn't let his friends see him hanging out with him.

"I- I'll think about it."

Bill stared at him, not breaking eye contact, almost as if he was scheming something. He turned on his side and drifted to sleep afterwards, leaving Keith to think aimlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! second chapter! still pretty motivated, so hopefully chapter three will be out soon aswell ^____^ just to clarify, there's nothing romantic yet, no actual crushing, rather just confusion and uncertainty. This is one of Mick and Keith's first proper interactions <3


	3. The Spider and the Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith avoids Mick the best he can after their last interaction. It leads to unintentional confrontations and more jumbled emotions.

It seemed that talking was the last thing that either of them wanted to do.

Mick was rather content with how things had turned out afterwards. Keith and his trailing horde of teddies had laid low for a few days after what had happened between them. Mick couldn't decipher if it was Keith who told them to intentionally avoid him, or if it were a different scenario. He couldn't care less. Carefree and not a worry in the world, Mick would parade onto the campus each day. Knowing that things between him and Keith had settled (hopefully), and knowing he wouldn't have to worry about the prospect of being cornered and picked on like he used to, he was on cloud nine.

Keith, on the other hand, was taking it similarly, but also seemed to dwell on it too often. He'd find himself thinking constantly. He knew he'd find himself stumbling across Mick again, how would they interact? He couldn't be friends with him. He didn't want to, he knew he couldn't. His team would bash him if they knew Keith had been talking to a kid that barely anyone knew.

Keith had to plan accordingly every day after his exchange with Mick; where he'd lead his group just to avoid any possible encounter with the guy. He felt embarrassed. Keith couldn't understand that how after he had demolished those records, deliberately tried every form of apology that didn't include socializing, and did everything possible just to avoid the kid afterwards. He didn't want to be called out as a coward by his mates if they'd found out about the incident. They didn't suspect much, thankfully, but Keith could only draw something out for as long as he could.

A week had passed, and the dust finally settled in Keith's mind. Mick was still as joyful, and it was clearly affecting his mornings.

Mick was roused from his deep slumber, yawning quietly as he gazed around for the time. It was still fairly early, surprisingly; Mick had somehow gotten control of his sleeping schedule. Another week. He stretched back in bed before sitting upright, rubbing out the weariness from his eyes before he jumped out from under the warm bedsheets. The scent of breakfast floated through the apartment as Mick felt himself get lured into the kitchen, where Charlie was busy frying eggs. Mick sat down at the table lazily, slouching in his chair as Charlie eyed him curiously. He set their plates down and sat down from across Mick.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"Course I am. Y'know, ever since that Keith Richards stopped nagging at me."

Charlie offered a wordless hum in response, and reached for some toast. Mick watched as he slathered the bread with margarine, then directed his focus on his own plate after a few moments. Mick nibbled at a biscuit or two and took a few gulps of his steaming tea. It was awfully nice waking up early for a change.

He and Charlie talked over fresh eggs and toast for a few minutes before Mick eventually turned his gaze to the window. Besides the sunlight that poured through it, Mick couldn't help but to see something from across. He squinted his eyes, drowning out Charlie's words as he focused on the apartment that stood directly beside theirs, another window in the view. Mick let his gaze wander into the other apartment's room before he saw a bit of movement from inside. Of course. Who else could it be.

Mick's eyes widened as he saw Keith's figure pop into the frame, just standing behind the glass. Two layers apart from each other. Mick tried his best to mind his own business, but found himself glancing back as soon as Keith had turned around; and began taking off his shirt. Paranoid and somewhat flustered, Mick quickly darted his gaze back onto his plate, picking nervously at his toast. Charlie seemed to notice his sudden expression, but Mick tried his best to avert his attention to anywhere else except for behind him.

"You must be delusional, Mick."

"No, no– I'm just.. real tired, you know? It's not often I wake up this early."

"What was his name again," Charlie wandered off before he finally remembered, "oh, Brian. He must've been giving you some heavy bloody drugs, man."

Mick pulled a face of confusion before he brushed Charlie off, getting up to escape to his bedroom. The latter tried his best to dismiss the odd exchange as well.

After locking the doorknob, Mick dashed straight back into bed, practically flopping back onto the flimsy mattress. No. He couldn't go to school. He couldn't handle it. A person Mick somewhat despised the most was his neighbor, and he knew about it; just wasn't sure if Keith knew, too. Mick found himself getting up and ready after a few minutes passed though, mind going back to what he had seen through the window just a few moments before. He wished he hadn't woken up early. Upon diving further into his thoughts, what he had seen pretty much cleared up everything he had heard next door; the loud Elvis record that played on loop nearly every night, the occasional creak of the bed and loud groans that Mick had the honor of hearing through the thin, paper-like walls.

Grabbing his guitar and bag, Mick started his walk, not attempting to wait for Charlie to catch up. With the door left open, his roommate gazed at him from afar in astonishment.

"Keith!"

A familiar voice rang out from behind Keith, directing his attention back. The recognizable head of golden blond hair made it clear as to who had decided to tag along. Keith turned his head back around and jammed his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. As he dug around for a smoke, Brian made his way beside the other, slightly out of breath as he walked alongside Keith.

"What do you want, Jones?"

"Nothin', man, just checking in," Brian looked away thoughtfully before asking, "how's Anita?"

Keith furrowed his eyebrow and stared at Brian. "She's fine. Why?"

"Oh– well, I thought you found another bird–"

Keith scoffed before he lit his cigarette, watching the flames dance at the end. "Don't believe the fuckin' rumors, man. You aren't getting her back anytime soon." Keith said; both daringly and jokingly. Brian couldn't tell.

"Yeah, alright," Brian glanced away again before chiming in.

"How's you and Mick?"

Keith had nearly jumped at the inquiry but maintained his calmness. "We're not friends. Only talked once, apologized, nothing else."

Brian caught Keith's gaze once more and looked at him in a way the former couldn't decipher; before he turned his head back again and they continued their stroll to school.

The rest of the walk was silent.

And of course, classes were torture.

Keith kept on contemplating what Brian had asked him that morning. Were he and Mick friends? Was the apology meant to be something more? Rushing thoughts filled his mind to the brim as he glanced over at Mick every now and then. 

Keith always noticed the kid had his head buried in either a book or his sketchpad. He'd watch silently as Mick's graceful hand flowed across the paper as he sketched out shapes and whatnot. Sometimes, Keith would watch on as either his classmates or one of his best mates would saunter up to Mick's desk and pull something irritating. Grabbed his pencil, flicked his forehead, watched his drawings far too close for comfort; but he said nothing. What could he say anyway? Keith stayed quiet, quiet only when he wasn't talking to his friends. He stayed deathly silent until lunchtime rolled around.

Keith's mates were out of the frame for the duration of lunch. Somehow, all of them had ended up getting sent home because they were found smoking between classes. 'How daft, those idiots,' Keith thought, but he couldn't care much about it. Though, he had no choice but to follow alongside his girlfriend and her overly talkative friend. Anita's friend, however, proved to truly be a bore as they strolled around the campus outside. Keith couldn't comprehend how Anita was able to tolerate her. He took occasional sips at the cola he had bought, trying to avert his focus on anything rather than the relentless chatter that spewed from her mouth.

As they walked down another trail, Keith caught a glimpse of the tree Mick was always perched at. They had to take the specific path, of course. Upon approaching the tree, Keith heard the soft and tender strums of an acoustic flow through the air. The tune was enjoyable to Anita and her friend, apparently, as they decided to take a seat at the bench terrifyingly close to the tree. Keith leaned to the side and accompanied them; it took everything in him to not turn back.

The strums came to a stop, and Keith tensed up. He turned around only slightly and caught Mick in his peripheral. The former appeared to be gesturing for him to sit down with him.

"Fuck off." Keith hissed, voice low enough for only Mick to hear.

The latter's reaction was anything but intimidated. "Just come over here, man."

Keith gave in.

He leaned up against the tree, just beside Mick. The warm plucking of his guitar proceeded, a song that Keith wasn't quite familiar with; completely made-up chords or whatever it was, it sounded decent. He eventually sat down on the grass, gaze glued onto Mick's hand as it traveled up and down the fretboard. Mick followed his gaze, his playing never ceasing. Keith seemed to be entranced by how the strings vibrated under Mick's touch. Mick, both amused and puzzled stopped playing and set his guitar down to the side. Keith snapped back out of his thoughts and glanced up at Mick.

"You know that Jimmy Reed record you gave me?" Mick eventually asked after a brief minute or two, looking away to dig through his bag.

Keith mumbled a 'yes' before he took a couple of sips from his cola. Mick held out the Jimmy Reed record and set it onto Keith's lap before he took the half-empty cola bottle from Keith. The former didn't seem to mind much as Mick chugged down a portion of it – nothing weird, nothing strange – Keith seemed more occupied with the record.

"It's a good listen, you know? You ought to hear more blues."

Keith nodded and flipped the record over. His responses consisted mostly of silent head movements or mumbling; he didn't feel quite comfortable near Mick yet. Keith had still felt embarrassed over what had happened between them; yet, Mick couldn't seem to have a care in the world. He truly didn't, and it was proved only further when Mick began talking excitedly about Jimmy Reed and his music. It progressed into the blues genre itself, in which Mick described his great adoration for it. Listening to his passionate rambling amused Keith, much more than Anita's chatterbox of a friend. Keith watched as Mick's eyes lit up in excitement as he pointed out his favorite song off the record – Keith couldn't help but to let a tiny smile roll onto his face.

A tiny, lingering part of Keith nagged at him to share the exact feelings he had for the blues and everything about it to Mick. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. The blues was a genre not meant to be in Keith's category. In reality, he was awfully fond of Jimmy Reed and other artists of the sort, but he couldn't tell Mick that he shared the same admiration for them. It would ruin his reputation if the word spread that he enjoyed blues, much more than skiffle rock or anything mainstream. Keith dismissed the thought, and allowed himself to listen to Mick ramble about the album passionately.

It struck something within Keith – the way Mick was genuine with his words and poured all his adoration just for a song and artist. Keith listened intently the entire time, but tried his best to not seem so interested – kept his guard up, or whatever it was. It wasn't like Mick would pull shit, Keith knew that, but he felt the urgent need to stay reserved and keep everything to himself. He figured that, staying attentive to what Mick was saying, would at least excuse him from sharing what he wanted to say.

Mick had stopped chattering after a few minutes, and focused his attention back to his guitar. Keith gazed away, slightly leaned up against Mick's leg as the former shifted a bit, moving the guitar away from the stone he was perched on. Upon strumming out a few chords, Mick cursed as he stumbled on a particular note, moving his fingers around in order to get the right sound. Keith took notice once he'd heard it, and glanced back up at Mick.

"That sounds like shit." He pointed out simply.

"Help me out, then." Mick shot back.

Keith froze for a second, staring wordlessly at Mick before his gaze drifted back to his guitar. Keith cleared his throat as he got up, and moved beside Mick, slightly behind the other boy. Mick stayed silent as he watched Keith's hand linger to the side.

"What're you trying to play?" Keith asked after a few seconds of complete silence between them.

"It's a jazz chord, I dunno." Mick replied, his eyes not leaving Keith's hand.

Keith hummed in response, furrowing an eyebrow as he moved his hand over Mick's. Only slightly brushing against it, Keith positioned Mick's hand near the middle of the fretboard and moved each finger almost delicately over each string. Mick's breath was practically hitched in his throat as he watched quietly.

"Pick at it or something." Keith instructed as he settled back to the side.

Mick acceded, and picked uncertainly at the strings, to test the sound. Surprisingly enough, it was the desired tune and Mick continued to let his fingers dance over the strings, hand still at the position that Keith had moved it to. Keith allowed the slightest, slightest grin to slip onto his face as he watched Mick's face light up as he experimented more with the chord. Keith knew he couldn't stay for long, he knew it was some kind of mistake to have been interacting with Mick like this – but if he had to be honest, the kid seemed like a nice guy. 

"Keith, babe, we're heading off now." Anita had turned around from her spot on the bench, and faced the two boys.

Anita eyed Mick in a way that he couldn't decipher; it was a mixture of both confusion and some sort of disgust, but he couldn't unpack it fully. Mick watched as Keith got up with a sigh, following Anita who had just started down the path with her friend.

"Keith!"

Mick was the one to call out for him. Keith turned around almost immediately, and stuffed his hands into his leather jacket in some kind of bashful instinct; his confused expression gave it away instantly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for hanging with me, man."

Keith responded with flipping off Mick; jokingly or seriously, he couldn't tell. Expected, Mick thought. Though, as soon as Anita started dragging him away by his arm, Mick couldn't help but to show a smile and wave at the other boy as he slowly departed. Keith tried to look away, but for some reason, he found himself smiling back, too.

"I talked to that kid today."

"Who?"

"Mick." 

Ronnie gaped at Keith in bewilderment, head tilting to face him as he put down the stack of records he was carrying.

"You did?"

"Yeah. No lie."

Ronnie shook his head, his expression twisting into an amused one. "And I thought you'd just leave it at the apology. Maybe you're not as much of that tough teddy boy as everyone thinks you are."

"Shut up, Ron." Keith glanced away, shifting against the counter only slightly. He was clearly embarrassed. Ronnie laughed at his reaction, as if it would make Keith feel any better.

"Speaking of Mick; he's coming around in half an hour or so. You ought to talk to him a bit more."

Keith went rigid, eyes widening. "No, no– I can't be seen with him, man–" he backed away from the counter, wordlessly threatening to escape from the store right then and there.

Ronnie raised an eyebrow and glanced around the fully empty shop. The only other breathing vessel aside from him was Keith. "...What do you mean? You talked to him earlier today, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but–" Keith scrambled to collect his words, "I just– I just can't be talking to him. That was a one time interaction, Ron, we can't be friends, you know I have a rep–"

_Ding, ding._

Speaking of the devil.

Keith went motionless, back facing the door as he prayed to God it wouldn't give him away. He glanced at Ronnie who only shrugged at him, much to Keith's chagrin. The latter heard footsteps leading up to the counter, just beside him. No use in hiding now, Keith decided, and had finally turned around.

Of course, Keith already knew what he was in for. But seeing Mick in something other than his school uniform was strangely something he wasn't prepared for.

The kid in question wore a denim jacket littered over with doodles, pins, and whatnot. Almost skintight, black leather jeans finished off the outfit, and Keith couldn't help but to wonder why his gaze was lingering there. He cleared his throat, and darted his gaze away.

Mick returned a curious gaze and cocked his head to the side upon facing Keith. They both stayed quiet, but Mick was clearly perplexed as to why Keith was being silent.

Ronnie eyed the scenario that was playing in front of him in confusion. "Erm, I need you to put these away Mike." He passed on the stack of records to Mick who immediately got to work, bustling away quietly.

Keith kept his gaze glued at the wall, hoping he could leave. Ronnie leaned up against the counter, leaning in just beside the other boy. "Could I get a thank you, at least?" Ronnie whispered, as his efforts of getting Mick to go away had worked. Ronnie couldn't understand the tension between the two, but he didn't question it.

Keith shook his head quickly and avoided Ronnie's stare. "What the hell's going on? I thought you were getting along with Mick?" Ronnie pressed on, wanting to understand why Keith had chose to react in such an odd manner.

Eventually, Ronnie couldn't stand his friend's sudden behavior. He subtly pushed and cornered Keith closer to Mick; who was still in the process of putting away the requested records, completely oblivious. Keith hissed curses at Ronnie, shoving back until he felt himself bump into Mick. The former turned around practically before he had even felt anything and glanced at Keith and Ronnie, purely bemused.

"Mick."

"..Keith."

"I– uh, I like your jacket."

The entire exchange wasn't meant to seem like they'd just met, but the two of them clearly made it seem as if it was. Mick was undeniably annoyed by it, as he was so sure that he and Keith were getting along just fine a few hours ago. Keith dropped his charade and sighed, giving in completely after seeing Mick's irritated expression.

"Sorry. I'm just," he paused and thought it over before covering up, adding, "I just wasn't expecting you to be here."

Mick raised an eyebrow. "I work here."

Keith nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah– yeah, I know, I was just– caught off guard. I'm sorry, man, really."

Keith shot a grim glance at Ronnie (who had successfully hidden behind one of the aisles) before he turned back to Mick. "I should probably get going then." Keith mumbled out, truly wondering how he had gotten himself into such a mess.

"Wait, Keith." Mick approached the other boy just as soon as he began heading towards the door. 

'God, what could he possibly want,' is all Keith thought, irritated, as he turned back to face Mick.

"Take off your jacket." Mick gestured to Keith's worn out leather jacket and waited for him expectantly. 

It wasn't the request Keith was expecting, sure, but it could've been worse. After what seemed like an eternity, he peeled off the jacket and held it in front of him. Mick followed suit, taking off his own denim jacket. The entire space had went dead silent as Mick held his soon afterward. Keith could practically feel Ronnie's eyes burning into him from afar.

"I know this is odd and shit– but since you said you liked my jacket, we could, uh, trade if you wanna."

Alright, not what Keith expected. Not at all. Mick seemed unbothered by what he was saying, though, leaving Keith to ponder how the hell he was just going with this. He wasn't sure what Mick was trying to do; if he was even trying to actually pull anything. Was this the way Mick tried to make friends? Maybe Keith was overanalyzing it. Perhaps it was just a friendly gesture from a stranger, nothing else.

"What the fuck, man–?" Keith sputtered out, still in slight disbelief.

"God, take it then. I've been wanting to get rid of this jacket for a while anyway. And uh, yours is falling apart, if you couldn't tell already." Mick pointed to Keith's jacket, which, yeah, it was pretty battered up since Keith had kept it for years.

It was also very dear to him, thank you very much. 

Keith felt as if he was punched in the stomach, only, there wasn't any pain, he was just at a loss of words. Mick's gaze pierced into his, and oh God, what was he doing? Keith figured that if he took it and go, the kid would finally leave him be. So, he did.

The exchange was quick. Keith shoved his jacket into Mick's arms as soon as he grabbed Mick's. Ronnie's jaw dropped as he watched the trade, pure confusion running through his mind as he tried to interpret what he had just witnessed. Keith felt the same way.

After muttering a 'bye,' Keith darted out of the door, Mick's denim jacket in his hands. As soon as he was about a block away from the store, Keith stopped in his tracks and ran a hand over the rough texture of the fabric. The kid who he had picked on for so long, apologized to, and deliberately avoided had given him his jacket. And as if it couldn't get more twisted, the kid had Keith's leather jacket that he had kept for God knew how long.

Keith slipped on the jacket after feeling the chill of the evening sweep through. As he started his stroll down the sidewalk, his mind lingered on Mick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop! sorry if this was slightly delayed! kinda dry on ideas but i really just threw stuff in along the way thats why this chapter was kinda messy;; apologies! also, real stuff's gonna be held out for a while, so i figured i'd throw in at least something to get us started ^_____^


	4. Under My Thumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick has his plans. Keith continues to keep his guard up. Though, maybe, just maybe Mick isn't that bad after all.

"Man, I don't know what you've been trying to do these past few days, but you seem rather happy with whatever it is."

Mick threw a glance at Charlie before he proceeded to change out into his uniform. His roommate seemed genuinely curious as to why he'd been in such a good mood, hell, even why he had been waking up earlier and actually managing shit on his own, too. Charlie proceeded to bombard Mick with curious inquiries, wondering if the guy had gotten a new girlfriend or how Mick had the ability to pick up on his shitty sleep schedule.

"I've talked to you about Keith before, haven't I?" Mick finally asked, avoiding Charlie's questions.

"Yeah. What's he got to do with all this, though?"

"I have something going with him. By the end of the year, he should be completely out of my sight." Mick responded, clear determination in his words.

"What? You're dating him?" Charlie asked, both in confusion and surprise.

Mick drew out a heavy sigh before he tossed his shoe at Charlie. "You daft git."

Charlie dodged both Mick's insult and shoe. Mick could tell his roommate couldn't understand what his intentions were, and he wasn't yet in the mood to spill what he was planning. But, he figured, if it drove Charlie away, he'd try to tell him.

"It's simple." Mick gathered his words carefully, humming as he paced around the room. Charlie took a seat on the bed, awaiting what Mick was going to say.

"Keith's a tosser. We've established that. Shitty attitude towards everyone he thinks isn't worthy of respect or isn't part of his horde." Mick thought again before he continued his rambling. "Ronnie's keeping a close eye on him, and I can tell Keith respects the guy. He's not gonna pull anything as long as Ronnie's got his tabs on him. If I can keep up a friendship with Keith, I'll finally get some fuckin' peace. And he can't do anything about it cos' of Ronnie."

Charlie registered what Mick had said, words tumbling into his ear as he attempted to understand. "So; you're faking a friendship with Keith so you could get some respect and not get picked on?"

Mick shrugged, surprised Charlie was able to comprehend a fraction of what he was planning. "Basically. I'm sick of him nagging for no reason, anyway."

Charlie scoffed, seemingly disappointed in Mick's schemes. "I don't see why you'd go through all that trouble."

"I can't back out, Charlie. I got his jacket."

Charlie shot a puzzled gaze before he looked at the familiar leather jacket that Mick wore. "And? It's just a jacket. I don't count that as progression in whatever... in whatever you're trying to pull."

"It's Keith's jacket. If that's not something, I don't know what is."

Charlie tried his best to understand Mick's plan and everything he'd said afterwards, really. Mick could tell. But upon observing the other, based on the doubt and uncertainty on Charlie's face, Mick knew his roommate still couldn't wrap his head around his words. Something Charlie couldn't understand was how Mick was so certain his plan would work out for the remainder of the semester. Or how Mick thought of Keith as a messiah of some sort, and how befriending him would cut him slack for the rest of the year. Charlie never truly questioned his roommate, though; the guy was something else. Mick was intelligent. There was no denying that. He found his way throughout the school, throughout classes, a lonesome shadow that peered behind a book. He was able to find his own spot in his school, and he had managed to maintain it for so long. Charlie truly adored that.

But what he still couldn't understand was how all of a sudden, Mick was fussing over how he'd get this guy to leave him alone. The question itched at Charlie until he finally asked Mick.

"What's up with you being so.. invested with this?" Charlie asked, rather reluctantly.

Mick let out a huff before he turned to face Charlie again. "You know what that cat has done before. It would feel good for a change to not always feel like the victim. Ought to get Keith in his place. Sweetening up to him's only right, yeah? I don't plan on getting shit from Ronnie either. This is my chance, Charlie."

Charlie only gazed at him, eyes slightly glossy. "Why this? You could just, I dunno, avoid him."

"He has his stupid mates hanging out in every crevice of the campus. They always jump out when least expected, you know that. It's always gonna lead back to him eventually."

Charlie drew out a heavy sigh, still unsure of what else to think of the situation. "You do have your points. Test the waters, I suppose. I think it'd be a miracle if Keith really stepped down from his almighty bullshit because of this." And Charlie meant it. 

Although he was rather hesitant about the entire deal, he had to admit, if he were able to see the "king" of the school back down, it would've been a pleasing sight. Charlie had his own encounters with Keith in the past that he hadn't talked about to anyone except for Mick. They weren't friendly encounters, to say the least.

Though, to see how Mick would handle the entire situation — Charlie didn't mind watching how it played out.

Mick quietly dismissed the issue afterwards and carried his guitar case and bag to the door, looking back at Charlie expectantly. "Let's go now, yeah?"

Charlie swung his own bag over his shoulder before he wordlessly followed along, opening the door for Mick as they headed out of the room and onto the sidewalk.

Walking to school without the usual warmth from his leather jacket was strange for Keith. 

Brian had caught up with him again, babbling something that Keith didn't particularly care about. Keith had the burning urge to stuff his hands into the pockets of his non-existent jacket, but found himself touching air as he was forced to listen to Brian ramble for the rest of the stroll.

As they were about five minutes away from reaching the campus, Brian happened to notice the two figures walking ahead of them in the distance. Keith, on the other hand, had his attention fixated on the ground rather than what was in front of him. Brian knew it was Mick instantly and called out for the other boy.

"Oi! Mick!"

As soon as Mick turned, Keith's head whipped up at the same time. They locked brief eye contact with one another until Keith looked away. The former watched as Brian ran up to Mick. Keith tried to focus on the other figure walking besides Mick; who he eventually identified as Charlie. Speaking of the guy, he took one glance at Keith, and stared on with an intimidating gaze. Keith tried his best to avoid him too. Their history wasn't the most pleasant, after all. As much as Keith wanted to beat the shit out of Charlie like he had done before, he stayed silent, not wanting to stir up any chaos in fear of Mick ratting him out to Ronnie. Or, Brian, possibly. The blond talked to Charlie too, he was obviously fond of the guy.

Soon enough, Brian brought along his chatter to Charlie and the pair walked up ahead, leaving Mick and Keith behind. The latter's walking speed had decreased drastically, almost an attempt at getting Mick to catch up with the other two and leave him alone.

They both had different roles. Mick was assigned as the prey. Keith was assigned to be the predator. He couldn't be seen hanging out with a kid whose name was rarely whispered among the school. Keith wasn't very keen of Mick either. After all, to him, it seemed as though Mick had just been trying to sweeten up to him to earn a friend; something Keith thought Mick desperately needed. 

Of course he was oblivious to what Mick's real intentions were. He couldn't read him. They'd only really made actual interaction one or two times. Keith wasn't planning on ever befriending Mick. Not only did he barely know him, he just knew he couldn't. He preferred keeping his distance from the kid and setting things between them as simple acquaintances. Nothing more. 

Keith had his reasons to not pick on the kid, anyway. His reputation, and his popularity in school and around town. Not only was Ronnie his friend; Ronnie was also the reason Keith had gotten the occupation of a session musician. Ronnie had his way around the studios and pubs across town. He'd say everything good about Keith, and he'd get gigs and slots. Ronnie knew Keith had talent. And Keith relied on Ronnie for that solid pay and experience of getting to engage in such opportunities. He couldn't fuck up things with Ronnie. So, he also couldn't fuck up things with Mick.

Keith tried desperately to keep that in the front of his mind as Mick slowed down to walk alongside him.

"Morning." Mick greeted Keith almost warmly, flashing a small smile.

"Hi."

"So, uh, the whole jacket exchange from yesterday? I was," Mick looked away, choosing his words, "I was out of it. Took some booze before work, I didn't know what I was saying."

Keith never knew the quiet kid could talk this much. "It doesn't matter now. Just keep it." Keith replied, only, it wasn't in such a positive tone — more dismissive.

Mick backed off afterwards, but the two continued walking together in silence.

"Heard it's gonna rain today." Mick chimed in after a couple of minutes.

'Leave me alone,' was a preferable response, but Keith replied with a somewhat enthusiastic, "that's nice."

"Yeah," Mick replied, rather giddy. "I was wondering if you wanted to jam a bit during lunch." He added, lifting up his guitar case to show Keith.

Keith forced a smile and glanced over at Mick. "I might pass, man."

Although Mick gave the offer insincerely, a clear attempt to progress his plan, yet he still felt the smallest pang of disappointment. "That's fine."

As soon as the pair reached the school, they both took it as the time to break off, Keith walking faster to meet up with his group behind the school. Mick offered a wave goodbye, as Keith left, leaving him with a small wave back. Mick made his way to the entrance, catching up with Brian who happened to be inside, sheltering from the cold. The former was near a row of lockers, huddling in the corner as he lit a cigarette, offering one to Mick as he approached.

"It's fuckin' cold out there, I'm not sitting around outside to freeze my bloody balls off," Brian stated simply, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he reached over to light the one that Mick had left between his lips.

Mick stayed silent, allowing the cigarette smoke to escape past his lips and mingle with Brian's.

"You and Keith seem to be getting along." Brian said, observing Mick's expression snap back to reality.

Mick decided that Charlie was the only person he'd explain the situation to, so he stayed quiet and shot Brian a questioning gaze. Brian had obviously saw the two walking; attentive and observant as usual.

"It just was friendly chatter." Mick mumbled, his tone unintentionally defensive.

His response led Brian's expression to contort into that of both confusion and slight suspicion. "Alright. I was just thinking you two became friends."

Mick had only then realized the fault of him acting all defensive, for no reason; well, he did have one or two reasons for acting up so suddenly. Mick was rather ticked off at Brian for bringing it up, completely unnecessary. He couldn't sense that Brian didn't mean anything more than what he had genuinely seen and said, but assumed that the blond was trying to hop onto his scheme – which, Mick wasn't very content about. The former quickly brushed off his tone and convinced Brian he was simply irritated from waking up too early that morning. Brian took it.

The bell rang, and Mick took off without another word, leaving Brian to follow behind. The blond kept his focus fixated on Mick as he slipped into the steady stream of students, dark eyes always observing.

"Richards! Sit up immediately!" The booming voice of the instructor Keith despised the most rang out through the room until it finally reached him.

Keith darted upright in his seat as he looked around frantically, clearly still half-asleep. God, Keith wished he could've skipped class. A few kids whispered and giggled beside him as he tried to focus his attention back on the board; though, the sound of the lecture that drabbled from the teacher's mouth cut off all interest from Keith. Last class until lunch, and he'd finally be free. He decided he'd hang in there for a while longer, resting his head back on the table. After a few minutes passed and Keith grew increasingly impatient, he asked to be excused to the restroom. As soon as he was given permission, he scrambled out of the classroom, fast, to get far, far away. 

Under the stairs was always his first option of a temporary escape. Keith noticed a figure already underneath, a person he assumed was Brian as he knew the other boy always found comfort under the staircase as well.

"Bri, you got a cigarette–?"

"It's Mick."

Keith stopped in his tracks upon hearing the unexpected voice pop up. He looked around, paranoid, ready to retreat back to class right after hearing it.

"Come here." Mick's voice echoed through the empty hallways, and Keith stiffened up only slightly.

Keith figured it wouldn't matter anyway. There wasn't anyone around, after all, so he headed over to the staircase, and ducked underneath. Mick sat, his back leaned up against the corner, all huddled up as he fumbled around with a box of cigarettes. He offered one to Keith, which the latter took gratefully, slumping down next to Mick. Keith jammed it between his lips before he put his knees up to his chest, rubbing his hands together as his own personal heater as the school never had one running.

Mick leaned over with the lighter, flames greedily latching onto Keith's cigarette as he slouched back lazily. 

"You know," Keith spoke up, after a few seconds of silence, "I wasn't expecting to see the quiet kid skipping class with a pack of smokes."

Mick shrugged and allowed a chuckle to slip. "I wasn't expecting the teddy boy to join him."

Keith scoffed, his head dangling back as he took a slow drag from his cigarette. Meanwhile, Mick seemed to forget his plans, but tried to keep it in the back of his mind. He supposed it didn't matter at the moment, though. His main focus was to build up some trust with the guy. Silence seemed to be the only thing looming between them, though, both quietly working away at their cigarettes as they gazed out the window that was just conveniently in front of the staircase.

"I should probably get going," Keith sighed after a minute or two, glancing back at Mick. "My girlfriend's in class, she might think I'm off shagging some other bird."

Mick nodded, flicking his cigarette away as he tucked his hands away in the pockets of his leather jacket. "It's alright. Is it fine if I walk with you? My room's around the corner."

"Yeah, sure."

With that, the two started their walk down the hallway. Their rooms were fairly close by, so both decided it wouldn't mean too much if they had slowed down their pace. The walk was silent, just as silent as the time they had spent underneath the staircase. Before they knew it, Keith was standing just near the closed door of his class. As soon as he was about to say farewell to Mick, the latter seemed to have something else nagging in mind.

"So, Keith, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime at the record store."

"Hang out?"

"Yeah, only if you're up to it," Mick showed a small smile. "It doesn't have to be today, y'know, just any time you wanna drop by. We could listen to some blues."

"I mean," Keith thought for a second, thinking hard if he really wanted to. He decided it wouldn't do any harm since it was an after class deal. "Yeah, sure. Maybe some other day?"

"That'd be fine."

"Alright. Bye, Mick."

After saying their goodbyes, Mick walked off, a thoughtful expression left on his face. Hopefully what he had offered to Keith wouldn't end up being a waste of his time.

As lunch rolled around, all the students were advised to stay indoors as some steady drizzling had began outside. Mick watched longingly out the window as he tried to eat his lunch. Brian had accompanied him not too long after, bringing along what seemed to be his lunch; which was a pack of more cigarettes. 

"I'll be laughing my ass off when you die," Mick teased, gazing down at Brian's meal that came in a small red box.

"At least get high before you plan on doing that, man." Brian shot back, a cheeky grin on his face as he lit a smoke.

They shared some brief laughter before it went silent once more, at least between the two boys. The cafeteria was never silent, as students proceeded on with their noisy socialization. Before one of them could say something, someone walked up to their table, eyeing the two boys intimidatingly. It was one of Keith's pets. Mick sighed and directed his attention back outside the window as Brian gazed back up at him, seemingly unfazed. 

"A queer art kid and a stoner? What a fuckin' joke," the boy sneered, hands on hips.

"You want something, man?" Brian asked daringly, as if to challenge him.

"Your cigarettes."

"I'm afraid these are mine, big guy," Brian shot him mocking puppy dog eyes before he returned to his hardened expression once more.

"I'll fuck you up, man. My mates and I will."

"Tough guy here needs backup, doesn't he?" Brian cooed as he grinned.

"Brian, let him piss off." Mick mumbled, barely facing the other boy.

It instantly caught the attention of the teddy boy, who immediately turned his gaze back to Mick. "Me? Piss off? Who the fuck do you think you are, fag?"

Mick felt his heart thud against his chest as he was suddenly hoisted up from his seat, his collar tugged up by the other boy. Brian got up immediately afterwards, his hands curling up into fists as he threatened to lunge at the teddy boy. He was stopped by arms holding him back, dragging him away from both Mick and the unidentified asshole. Voices dropped to whispers around them as people began to take notice of what was happening.

"Think you're so tough, eh? What are you gonna fuckin' do?" The boy spat at Mick, which the latter responded with silence, trying his best to keep his guard up.

The grip on his collar tightened. "I'll beat you right here, man. What's a scrawny kid supposed to do?" The words kept getting thrown at Mick, which he could only react to with silence.

Things seemed to go slower as soon as the boy held his fist up, his knuckles white. Mick braced himself, braced himself for another bruise, or one of his teeth to fall out. He could hear Brian's shouting, almost muffled. Gasps and yelling erupted from around him. Until, as if a guardian angel was sent down, everything stopped dead in its tracks.

"Put him down."

The teddy boy whipped his head around almost violently to face the voice that had chimed in. There, Keith stood, tall, menacing and dangerous. His voice dipped low as he eyed the boy cautiously, his gaze never breaking contact.

"Keith-" an effort to question was instantly cut off.

"I said put the fucking kid down!" Keith demanded.

Mick was slowly lowered down, the tight grip on his collar gone. Mick stared on at Keith and the other boy in bewilderment. Why was he here? Why did he stop him in front of the entire lunchroom?

"What the fuck are you trying to say, Keith?"

Mick wondered why the hell Keith had said so, too. Apparently, Keith had his reason, though. He scrambled to think of something, before responding back to the boy.

"You're trying to embarrass me in front of the whole fuckin' school, asshole. Do you really wanna scrape up my title?" Keith asked, not missing a beat as he glared piercingly into the other boy's terrified eyes.

Mick could feel the fear from the guy radiate off onto him. It was over almost instantly as said "tough guy" rushed away from the scene, clearly embarrassed. 

Mick watched the scenario, almost amused even though he was nearly close to getting knocked out a few minutes before it. The cafeteria had obviously tuned in, but tuned out after hearing what Keith had said; it was typical, and the excitement factor had decreased drastically. Everything had returned back to normal in a heartbeat. As soon as it did, Keith gazed up at Mick almost in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Just a bit shocked. By that kid."

"Yeah, sorry about him," Keith averted his gaze, "he's usually easy to defuse."

Brian had struggled free from the other guy's grip, and nearly sprinted back to the table as he checked on Mick. Keith watched on as Brian scrambled up to Mick, hands grabbing him by his shoulders.

"I'll kill that fucker-" Brian blurted out, clearly not willing to take anymore shit.

"Brian, no-" Mick sighed, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder, "I'm fine, really. He didn't even touch me."

"He had you in a fuckin' death grip, Mick!"

"It's fine. It's over now."

Brian backed off eventually, a defeated huff escaping his lips. The blond took it as the time to look back at Keith, a questioning gaze on his face. "I wasn't expecting you to drive one of your own pets away like that."

Keith shrugged. "I was just, uh, sick of him always pulling bullshit. If he beat up someone in front of everybody, of course it'd trace back to me. They'll think I'm behind the shit he pulls, you know that's embarrassing."

Brian gazed at Keith thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

The bell rang suddenly afterwards as the room began emptying out. Mick stood still, seemingly dumbfounded as he still tried to process what had happened. As soon as students piled out and Brian had taken his leave, Mick averted his attention back to Keith.

"Keith?"

"Hm?"

"Uh, thanks. For, y'know, standing up for me like that."

"Oh, yeah, of course. No problem."

Mick smiled, only, this time, it was more genuine. Keith smiled back before they took their leave, both walking alongside each other.

"Holy shit, it's fuckin' pouring!" Brian yelled out, frozen on top of the stairs as he looked out into the heavy rain that covered the entire campus.

Dismissal was chaos. As soon as the final bell rang, students rushed out from all directions and into the rain. Screams of both terror and joy rang out from throughout the campus as students under umbrellas and coats struggled to escape.

"You gonna leave?" Mick asked Brian, watching in amusement as a few kids tumbled into the mud. 

"Nah. I'm not risking my hair for this shit. Don't care if I have a brolly." Brian stated simply, leaning up against the wall in the comfort of the shade that sheltered them.

"Well, suit yourself– holy shit, is that Keith?"

Indeed, it was Keith. Completely soaked, standing out in the rain. Judging by his unamused face and his group who was seen scattering away in a fit of giggles, it was clear he wasn't having the brightest day. Mick watched on as a few of Keith's mates ran off with presumably his umbrella. 

Mick sighed heavily, glancing back at Brian. "Should I help him out?" He asked, whipping out his own umbrella.

"I mean, yeah. Especially since he saved your ass in the canteen." Brian chuckled, his hand gestured over to Keith who was surprisingly still in the rain. He seemed to not give a shit.

So, Mick sauntered over to where Keith was, still hauling his guitar and bag over as he struggled to keep his umbrella in a firm grip. Keith knew, somehow, that it was Mick once the rain that poured onto him stopped entirely. He glanced to his side to see Mick, half covered by the umbrella, trying his hardest to carry everything at once. Keith seemed to not comprehend what he was doing until he did realize. He quickly took Mick's guitar case to assist the other, and the two exchanged awkward smiles before they burst into lighthearted laughter. 

"You're getting a bit soaked there, man." Keith noticed exposed side had a steady amount of raindrops already stained across his jacket.

"It's alright, really. I can walk you home, if you'd like."

"I wouldn't mind," and Keith smiled as genuinely as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fourth chapter baby!! should i make the chapters shorter? longer?? i dunno hehe. anyway the umbrella sharing trope is adorable and i wanted to do it so bad for these two esp since ive been missing rain :-) 
> 
> also i cut my hair into a mullet!! inspired by keef ofc!! i like it tons <3 i have a few ideas for the next chapter, but we'll see how it plays out!!


	5. He Smiled Sweetly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith decides to meet with Mick over the weekends. A bond slowly blossoms between the two.

The weekends rolled by quicker than anticipated, especially for Keith. For him, there wasn't much that he looked forward to during the end of the week. It was almost like any other usual day, minus classes and running around and wreaking havoc. He'd find time for himself and stay at home, jamming with Bill or running his favorite record for an entire day. Sometimes, Anita would stop over, and she'd force Keith to take her out someplace. Keith loved her, he really did, and he'd do anything that Anita wanted; but couldn't bear the thought of having another dinner date with her that weekend. As much as he hated to admit it, he preferred any other activity over those cheesy, romantic dates that usually ended up with him and his girlfriend getting absolutely hammered. 

So, as Saturday rolled around, Keith couldn't help but to consider the offer that Mick had given him at school. Was the record store even open on Saturdays? He couldn't recall. Keith decided to ring up Ronnie first, to make sure he wouldn't go through the effort of getting to the store just to discover it was closed.

Keith was sat up in bed, leaned up against the headboard as he watched the sun barely peak through the closed blinds. He reached over to his nightstand, tentatively taking the phone and raising it to his ear as he rotated the store's number in. Keith cradled the phone in the crook of his neck as he waited for somebody to pick up. After some brief moments of silence, he finally heard someone pick up at the other end and wasted no time in answering. 

"Uh, hello? Is Ronnie on the line?" Keith asked reluctantly, as he coiled the phone's wire around his finger.

And of course, Mick's clear voice jumped into the receiver. "Ron isn't available, but I'd be very happy to assist you, Mr. Richards."

Keith didn't know what compelled him to play along as he responded with a cheeky, "Ah, I'm sorry– who's this?"

Keith heard Mick laugh softly from his end, in which he responded with his own small laugh too. "You need anything, man?" Mick finally asked.

Keith had only then realized what he had called for. "Oh, uh, I was going to ask for the store's opening time."

"We're open any day we feel's fit," Mick replied before adding nonchalantly, "we've had a slow week so Ron wanted me to take the shop for a few hours, see if anyone would drop by for some weekend shopping."

Keith nodded, as if Mick would know he had done so. He decided to cut to the chase. "I was thinking about it,, I was wondering if I could drop by?" 

Keith heard another laugh from Mick's end. "Of course, Keith. You don't have to ask to drop by."

Keith replied with something equally as witty, and the two had laughed together, talking briefly. Upon saying their farewells, Keith hung up and threw the phone back onto the table forcefully as he laid back in bed. Keith ran a hand through his dark, shaggy locks of hair as he glanced over to see his roommate's bed; upon looking, there were lumps of blankets that were stacked onto Bill. Keith had initially decided to ask Bill to tag along; but the guy was in a deep sleep, Keith could tell, and he sure as hell wasn't going to mess with him. Upon changing into a fresh t-shirt and trousers, Keith slid on his new denim jacket and hurried outside, hands in pockets as he navigated through the streets.

_Tick. Tick._

Mick leaned up against the counter as he drummed a rhythm on the surface, shooting impatient glances at the clock each time it struck a minute or two. He had already finished stocking up and had checked and re-checked frequently throughout the small shop to make sure. The two crates of records that had awaited Mick in the morning were already stashed away, leaving the boy to wait for anything to pop up. Well, "anything" being Keith, of course. It wasn't like he had much else to do; especially since Keith had called earlier that morning, Mick had been anticipating his arrival, almost anxiously. He wasn't sure why. It had only seemed to intensify from there once Mick had heard the recognizable bell sound just at the door.

"Mick, hi." Keith gave a reluctant wave, one hand jammed into the pocket of his jacket as he made his way to the counter.

Mick replied with a silent wave and a smile, as he gestured for Keith to come closer. "A few crates just came in today, and you won't believe what they got."

Keith hummed in response as he leaned up against the counter, observing Mick as the former leaned under, disappearing from Keith's sight. Mick emerged with an assortment of records; all Muddy Waters. Though, for Keith, it felt like he had just seen Mick yank out a plethora of gold, right in front of him, in full display.

"I know you don't listen to the blues, man, but shit! If you don't know Muddy Waters," Mick glanced up at Keith with a grin before adding, "then there's definitely something wrong with you."

Keith's jaw was frozen only slightly open, gaping at the amount of Mud in front of him. It wouldn't have hurt to tell Mick he genuinely enjoyed the blues; would it? Keith decided it didn't matter anyway. He'd just spare his knowledge on one blues musician to Mick, and it would be Muddy.

"I listen to Mud for fucks' sake," Keith chuckled lightly before he ran a finger over one of the cases; it took everything in him to not faint right then and there. "It's crazy seeing all this. You know, since Ron never stocks up on Muddy Waters here."

Mick laughed gently before he looked away. "Maybe it's 'cos I always take the Muddy Waters stuff?"

"Oh. Well, shit. I'm not surprised."

They both shared some laughter before Mick offered to run some tracks on the player. Keith nodded almost giddily, following Mick as the latter played the record of choice. Mannish Boy was, of course, the first track to start running. It was a classic to both Mick and Keith, and it got the adrenaline pumping through their veins just by the first few chords. Mick swayed a bit as Keith plopped onto the floor, leaning up against one of the record bins.

"How'd you get into Mud, Keith?" Mick asked, still trying to get the tempo into his movements as he moved his hips around.

"I got into his stuff when I was younger, actually. I ended up enjoying him as much as I enjoyed Elvis and shit. I think I heard about him while doing some early gigs around and listened to him the first chance I got." Keith watched on as Mick continued to sway, his movements matching up perfectly with Muddy's raspy and strong voice that filled the shop.

"He's a damn good musician. I fuckin' love the guy." Mick sighed almost dreamily as he stopped dancing, slumping down next to Keith.

"Well, uh, I guess us liking Muddy Waters is one thing we can both admit to enjoying." Keith pointed out, smiling at Mick as the latter turned to face him.

"Yeah. That just shows we have some impeccable taste in music." Mick responded in a jokingly posh tone, a grin on his face.

The voice of Muddy continued to blare, filling every empty space in the store. The sound flowed between the two as Mick hummed along to the vocals and Keith to the chords. Keith, feeling more comfortable with Mick and the music that poured from the player decided to chime in with another question.

"You listen to Dylan?"

"Of course I listen to Dylan! You're joking, aren't you?"

"No, fuck, I was just wondering."

"You know," Mick said, pondering to himself as he turned to face Keith once more, "there's a Bob Dylan song I really enjoy–"

"Don't say it! Ballad of a Thin Man."

"Nah."

"Blowin' in the Wind?"

"That's the most basic you could give me Keith, c'mon, you could do better," Mick giggled almost like a schoolgirl as he punched Keith playfully in the shoulder, still awaiting his next guess.

Upon being met with silence, Mick let out a dragged sigh and raised an eyebrow at Keith. "Like a Rolling Stone."

"See, now I could never have thought of that–" Keith objected, swatting Mick's knee. Mick laughed again and shoved Keith gently.

The record droned on, flicking through tracks as the two boys continued to chat over the music. Mick would crack a joke every now and then, sending Keith into laughter. Keith tried his best to not appear too vulnerable, he really did, but he couldn't help himself when Mick began rambling about his favorite blues artists. He had responded to Mick just as enthusiastically, leaning in briefly every now and then to emphasize a thought of his. Mick would listen, allowing Keith his time to talk as he'd gaze on, a smile plastered onto his face.

As soon as the record ended, Keith withdrew from the conversation, the same relaxed and content expression still visible on his face. "Felt like we were talking for ages."

Mick drew out a sigh before shooting a smile at Keith. "Yeah. And honestly, you're the last person I thought I'd be getting in depth with in a blues conversation." Mick admitted, grinning at Keith as he got up to collect the record.

Keith chuckled, standing up as he gazed around the store. "Is Ron in the back or something? We should get outta here."

Mick looked up at Keith curiously. "Get outta here?"

"Yeah. We could get some lunch."

Mick offered a smile to Keith. "I'd love that, I really would, but I think I should tell the boss about it first."

"Can't you leave a note?"

"Well, I suppose I could. Hold on."

Keith nodded, allowing Mick some time before he stepped out of the store and waited patiently for the other outside. Mick headed over to the counter, scrambling to find a notepad or some paper. He even dug around in some of Ronnie's possessions in one of the drawers, wanting to get over with writing the note quick. Mick found a scrap of paper on the bottom of all the clutter and yanked out a pen before he began scribbling onto the paper.

_Gonna get lunch with Keith. I put away the records as instructed. –Mick_

Mick figured that writing anything more would be unnecessary, so he left it at that and stuck the paper on the middle of the counter. He prayed that Ronnie wouldn't mind him clocking out a bit earlier than usual, but Mick was getting somewhere; and if he had to admit, he was starting to enjoy spending time with Keith. Mick couldn't bring himself to admit to it, though. He brushed the thought aside as he met up with Keith outside, the two of them then taking the route to the nearest diner.

"My bird always drags me off here. They have some good food." 

Mick nodded before looking up at the establishment that loomed in front of them. It was a fairly cozy looking resturant, almost like a cafe from the outside. A large window at the front displayed a variety of desserts and dishes. "The more I think about it, I don't usually eat out." Mick said thoughtfully, eyes scanning the menu on the window.

"You'll enjoy it here, I promise." Keith assured Mick, showing the boy a small smile before he opened the door.

Mick stepped inside, thanking Keith as the former followed behind closely. Mick took the lead, choosing a booth pushed away in the corner. Mick glanced around at the interior, finding it strikingly similar to the theme an American diner from the 50's would have. Imitation seemed to serve the resturant well, though, as there were several patrons roaming throughout the resturant. Mick slid into the red seating of the booth, settling onto the cushions behind him. Keith took the seat in front of him, clearing his throat as he shot a glance at Mick. The latter reciprocated his glance with a snort that gradually progressed into more laughter between the two.

Their horseplay was cut short as a pretty blond girl sauntered over to their table, a small notepad in hand. She gazed between the two before asking, "what can I get for you boys?"

Mick glanced at the waitress then at Keith, waiting expectantly. 

"I think I'm good man. Just knock yourself out." Keith reassured Mick, but the former wouldn't take that as an order.

Mick looked down at his menu, eyes looking over the options before he smiled up at the waitress and showed her his pick. "We'll take the fish and chips to share... And I'll get a vanilla milkshake."

The waitress took Mick's order quickly, a bubbly tone in her voice as she eventually departed from their table.

"You're really not hungry, Keith?"

"I was going to order a shepherd's pie, but I figured it'd be too much."

"You should've told me." Mick shook his head before he looked over again to observe his surroundings. "I don't think I've ever had a proper milkshake."

"Really?" Keith replied curiously, raising an eyebrow. "They have the best here. Where have you been?"

"Not here, I suppose."

The pair talked casually before the same vibrant waitress strutted over, carrying a tray with their order. She set down the fish and chips along with Mick's milkshake. With a grin and wink, Mick said a fast, "thanks, sugar," before he turned his attention to his beverage. The blond seemed rather charmed and flashed a smile towards Mick then at Keith.

"Where'd that come from?" Keith gaped, watching the waitress walk off as he looked back at Mick. "She was clearly into it."

Mick shrugged, poking at his straw before he took a sip. "She's not really my type."

Keith turned to Mick, surprised. "A blond! What else could you want?"

"I'm just... not really looking to hook up with anyone." Mick appeared to avoid the question. "The milkshake's pretty good."

"Yeah, they're not too bad."

Mick pushed over the shake to Keith, as if to offer some of it to the boy. Keith smiled and took a few sips while Mick popped a few chips into his mouth.

"So, how'd you get into music? You know, guitar and rock, stuff like that." Mick inquired, keeping eye contact with Keith.

"Oh, my grandfather. Well, my maternal grandpa." Keith didn't feel all too comfortable with revealing everything to Mick all at once, so he decided to add subtly, "my father wasn't fond of me getting into music, but my grandfather encouraged it and got me a guitar when I was younger."

Mick nodded. "Seems like a good man. How's he doing now?"

Keith cleared his throat again before he averted his gaze. "Actually, he uh, passed not too long ago."

Mick gazed at Keith sympathetically. "Oh. I'm sorry, man."

In an attempt to switch up the subject, Mick quickly threw another question towards Keith. "How are your folks?"

Keith appeared to hesitate once more, fidgeting with a fork to the side. "Erm, my parents divorced when I was younger. I'm closer to my mum."

Again, another strike of empathy for Keith struck Mick. "Gosh, I'm sorry Keith. I didn't know."

Keith hummed in response, focusing on everything else but the boy in front of him. He eventually switched the questions towards Mick, not wanting to appear vulnerable to the latter.

"How about you? How'd you get into blues?" 

Mick thought for a second, looking away while he did. "Hm.. well I joined my church's choir when I was a youngster, so I suppose that was one thing that built up to me getting into music. I was already listening to Muddy when I met Brian, and he kind of helped expand my tastes. So it all started at a young age."

Keith seemed rather invested in what Mick was saying, so he attempted to push on with another question. "Hm.. where were you raised?"

"Dartford, Kent. Middle-class family, obviously," Mick scoffed, reminiscing on his younger days. "My mother's a lovely lady. My brother convinced my mum to take a different school to focus on his studies for theater and whatnot. We don't keep touch as much I'd like, but we're on good terms."

Mick chuckled a bit before trailing off. "What was your childhood like?" He asked Keith, hoping he'd get an answer.

Keith seemed to stiffen up at the question, and looked down at his milkshake. "It wasn't so bad– but uh, I don't usually go into depth with it."

There they were, exchanging questions, and the supposedly "quiet" art student was rambling more than the usually outgoing teddy boy. Nonetheless, Mick decided to drop asking questions and respected Keith's response, not attempting to pull an answer from him.

The minutes of silence that came afterwards was accompanied by Mick taking occasional bites of fish and Keith sipping at his vanilla milkshake. Breaking the barrier of the sudden silence, Keith gestured to something behind Mick. The former looked up then turned around, head peeking from behind the booth as he came face to face with a large jukebox. Mick faced Keith again, expression giddy with excitement. "Do you think they have any Dylan?"

"It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Mick bounced childishly in his seat before he got up, looking dreamily at the machine in front of him. Suddenly, he turned back to Keith, a pout on his face. "It needs coins."

Keith got up from his own seat before he accompanied Mick, looking at the machine beside him. "I don't know about you, but I don't enjoy paying." Keith suddenly rammed his arm against the machine, causing it to creak and groan.

Mick simply allowed Keith to do whatever he was doing, watching in awe at the side. Some clanking and what seemed to be coins splashing around was heard from inside the jukebox. Keith stopped going against the jukebox and pressed a few buttons, skimming through the variety of songs. Mick knew once Keith had picked a song, as the former pressed another button and backed away from the machine. Suddenly, the somber and familiar intro of drums and instruments floated through the jukebox and into the resturant. Bob Dylan's easily recognizable vocals rang out, causing Mick to gape in pure wonderment, as if the jukebox was a foreign machine to him.

Mick laughed and played air guitar, picking at imaginary strings as Keith sat back down at their booth. Mick mouthed the lyrics, looking back at Keith with a cheery expression on his face. "Beware doll, you're bound to fall, you thought they were all..." Mick hummed the rest, swaying his body as he plopped back into his own seat across Keith. 

In an attempt to humor Mick, Keith mouthed the 'kidding you,' before he returned back to silence, chuckling lightly as the other continued to dance in his seat. 

"C'mon Keith, sing along!"

"I think I'm good, thank you very much."

_You used to laugh about  
Everybody that was hanging out  
Now you don't talk so loud  
Now you don't seem so proud_

As those lyrics rang out under Bob's voice, Mick turned to face Keith, still moving along to the song. It made Keith feel oddly self-conscious. Dylan's voice continued to pour from the speakers, the other patrons having no choice but to tap their own feet to the tempo. Mick suddenly reached out across the table to take Keith's arms, swinging them playfully to the beat. Keith felt like pulling away, a bit embarrassed; upon taking one look at Mick's carefree expression, though, he danced along, a smile curling onto his lips. They mouthed the lyrics together, goofy expressions on both of their faces. Mick was just as amused as Keith when he had seen the former play along. Keith felt strangely at ease.

He decided they could stay there for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! online school's been crazy :-) we're getting laptops for freshman year in two days, so i was determined to finish this chapter along with my assignments ^____^  
> mick and keef are kinda getting along, keith's obviously still gonna be secretive abt his past and stuff but mick's slowly getting more comfy around him! i wanted a tame chapter to kinda start building their friendship outside of school on :) im also pretty sure this diner will be around in future chapters too :-))


	6. Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick, Keith, and paper airplanes.

Mick and Keith's time spent at the diner had went surprisingly well. Maybe too well, a bit better than either of them had initially anticipated. Even during their time at the record store, things were going quite smoothly.

Mick was pleasantly surprised he was able to connect to Keith in the span of half a day. During their time at the resturant, they had spent hours running tracks on the jukebox until an employee had told them to give other patrons a chance. The two talked endlessly, well, Mick did most of the talking as Keith still didn't appear to want to drop his guard in front of Mick just yet. Though, Mick counted it as progress whenever he got Keith to smile or laugh at a joke of his. Hell, Mick had momentarily forgotten about why he had actually wanted to befriend Keith in the first place. Perhaps he was excited, he'd never had a mate who happened to enjoy all the same musicians as he did aside from Brian.

And Brian never took him seriously, really. Brian always tried to assert himself as some kind of higher authority, or someone with a more advanced position simply because he knew more about the blues than Mick. Not only in a musical aspect, either; Brian believed he had the right to the big brother role just because he was older and teased Mick whenever, about whatever. Mick knew it was all fun and games, but sometimes, he felt he had needed a break from it. 

So talking to Keith and getting to know him better, even if only a few words were exchanged, gave Mick a sense of relief. It was admittedly nice talking to someone who didn't speak down to him or act superior simply because he knew more about some blues band. Mick discovered that Keith was just as invested in music as Brian, too. But Keith brushed off his ambitions when Mick asked, acting humble even when he told the other about his gigs as a professional session guitarist.

Keith wasn't very revealing with his upbringing or family, but he was most certainly open with talking about his interests. Mick found out Keith had been in a technical school prior to him returning to finish senior year at high school, only with more supervision and stricter expectations. Mick had burst into laughter when Keith had told him about a stunt he had pulled off in technical school in order to get moved back to regular classes.

Mick noticed the boy reel back when he shared too much about himself. Mick noticed him fidget every now and then. Mick noticed that he still couldn't see through the barrier that Keith had put up around him. The cold, hard front of his teddy boy guise was still visible; Mick felt obliged to get through to him, somehow. But what could he say? It had only been half a day of them getting comfortable with each other. Their still sprouting bond had a long way to go.

After their stop at the diner, Keith offered Mick a stroll around. Mick couldn't decline; he was stacked with homework, and wasn't at all looking forward to finishing any. About midway into their walk, Keith began talking to Mick about the crevices in town he'd usually migrate to when he often had nothing to do. Keith knew every rundown area in the relatively neat and proper town they lived in. It didn't surprise Mick once, not even when Keith showed Mick to the junkyard. It wasn't necessarily secretive or hidden away, but nonetheless, not a breathing being was present there except for them.

"You're joking." Mick deadpanned, watching as Keith began climbing the fence.

"It's a nice perch, it's comfortable, really, I always bring a smoke here and it turns out just fine." A pause. "Are you a wuss or are you going to climb over?" Keith chuckled playfully.

Mick shook his head, averting his gaze almost bashfully after hearing Keith. "I'm no wuss. Can we take the walk home now?" He asked, rather uneasy at how late it was getting.

Keith rolled his eyes before he jumped off the fence and faced Mick. "We're going there next time."

And Mick just laughed at that, following alongside Keith as they maneuvered their way back home. The sun had already set by then, and the night gradually began looming over their town as they rushed to their apartments. A light drizzle began pouring over, as the two ran through the dark streets to get to shelter. Mick, laughing his ass off, tugged at the back of Keith's jacket the entire time in order to not stumble into anything. 

The pair finally reached Keith's flat, both generously drenched in rainwater. Keith hurried up the stairs and under the entrance's small roof, hastily gesturing for Mick to follow. The latter had nearly tripped over as he ran upstairs, taking a deep sigh as soon as they were both under the door's overhang. The two watched the rain drum against the sidewalk in silence, both seeming to try and collect their composure. Mick was the first to burst out into pure laughter, Keith following just seconds after.

"You look like a wet fuckin' dog–" Keith snorted, jamming a finger into Mick's shoulder.

"Coming from the guy who looks like a drowned rat." Mick shot back bravely, chuckling lightly afterwards as he shook his wet hair out.

Keith scoffed at Mick's response and resorted to punching his arm hard as his reaction. Mick winced almost instantly and withdrew his arm, glancing up at Keith in a manner that made the former feel insecure and guilty almost immediately. "Shit, I'm sorry."

A sudden grin twisted onto Mick's lips as he punched Keith in the shoulder back, bringing a groan from the latter. "All in good fun."

The two shared a brief moment of laughter once more before Mick decided he'd say his farewell. He prepared to shield himself from the rain and turned to face Keith before leaving.

"Hey– uh, Keith, if you ever wanna possibly hang around again, I'm just next door." Mick realized then he had never told Keith that they were neighbors. "I reckon you didn't know so there's that," he added, averting his gaze.

Keith gazed Mick up and down. "I knew that?" The statement came out more like a question.

"Oh," Mick blinked and prepared to leave right then and there. He hadn't realized that Keith knew they lived next door to each other all along. "Don't we go to school at different times in the morning?"

Keith chuckled. "Don't you know my room has windows? You're always walking off early."

Mick laughed it off. "Oh, yeah– uh, that was stupid. I'd better go off then."

"Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"Today was nice, man. I wouldn't mind it if we hung out again sometime."

Mick smiled. "I'd like that, then. Goodnight, Keith."

As soon as Mick scurried away to his flat, Keith darted inside to get the slightest bit of warmth from the cold. The apartment's heater was shit, and so was the one in his room, but it served some kind of heat. Keith rushed upstairs, huddling under his jacket as he hurried through the dimly lit hallways to get to his room. As he reached his door, he knocked hastily before Bill showed up almost instantly; which, was a surprise to Keith since the guy never responded to the door instantly. 

"Where the hell have you been?" Bill immediately bombarded Keith as the former stepped inside. "Your bird's been keeping the bed warm and she wouldn't quit nagging at me."

Keith blinked once before he spat out a flurry of curses, running to his bedroom without another word. Sure enough, Anita was sprawled onto Keith's bed, an irritated look on her face as she hoarded the bedsheets. Once Keith had entered, she looked up with a grim gaze, her petite hands clutching hard onto the sheets. "Where have you been?"

Keith ignored her at first as he rushed to his closet and began peeling his wet clothes off. "Out with a friend."

"I was waiting for you all day," Anita proceeded. "You were supposed to take me out for lunch. We always do this. What happened? I've been missing you and you go and do this."

Keith pulled on a fresh shirt as he peeked from behind one of the closet doors. "I wanted to spend some time with a friend, I'm sorry baby."

Anita shook her head. "This is ridiculous. Choosing one of those stupid teddy boys over your own girlfriend? You bastard." Anita seemed to be on the verge of tears as she looked up at Keith accusingly, her doe eyes glossy.

Keith had finally gotten out of the closet and made his way to the bed, instantly wrapping Anita into a tight embrace. "We can get dinner next week, babe."

Anita seemed to not want to hear any of it as she quickly untangled herself from Keith's arms and got up. "I'm going home, Keith." And with that, she collected her bag and other belongings from the bedroom and stormed out.

With a heavy sigh, Keith leaned up against the bed's headboard, contemplating what had happened. Bill appeared just as soon as the main door slammed shut, indicating Anita's departure.

"Alright then, I'd like to know what the fuck's goin' on, Rich."

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I just went around with a friend today and Anita began saying shit just because I didn't take her out today." Keith stammered in exasperation. "I take her out every Saturday. Every fucking Saturday. I miss one day and she's all over me, man."

"Look; I don't care about your friend or your girlfriend, but could we keep the volume down? You know what the landlord did that time when you were doing god knows what with Anita last week." Bill snapped, his voice low.

"Ah, your concern is much too overwhelming, Bill." Keith shot back sarcastically, reaching over to flick his lamp off.

"Just– just go to sleep, damn."

Mick slept better than he usually did.

He woke up the next morning feeling somewhat refreshed despite the heavy pour of rain that clattered against his bedroom window the entire night. Eager to start his Sunday morning, Mick bounced out of bed and started preparing breakfast for Charlie and him. His roommate was knocked out, a steady snoring drifting from underneath his blankets. 

Charlie didn't seem to mind that Mick had gotten home late and completely drenched the night before. Or, maybe he just didn't care. Charlie rarely did anything thoughtful for his roommate, but upon seeing Mick shivering in bed, he fixed him up a bowl of hot soup and silently left him to sleep. Mick found the gesture to be sweet, so he gladly started on making Charlie his "iconic" biscuits.

It took around twenty minutes for Mick to pop the pastries into the oven. He was glad that he had woken up early, otherwise the biscuits wouldn't have been started properly. During it, Mick decided to call Ronnie up after a few minutes of waiting, just to tell him he'd take a day off. He wasn't quite in the mood to take another shift and figured Ronnie wouldn't mind. As soon as Mick got to the phone and put the store's number in, the fresh scent of biscuits wafted throughout the apartment.

"Hello, please give me a bloody moment to set up and I'll call you back–"

"Ron!" Mick stammered before he could hang up. "Can I take a day off?"

Silence came briefly from the other end, but was soon replaced with Ronnie's lighthearted chuckling. "A day off? No. Get your ass over here."

"Ron–" Mick prepared to protest.

"I'm kidding Micky, don't slaughter me." Ronnie laughed through the line, his childish front taking over. "It's fine, really. I don't expect crowds to drop in today anyway."

Mick sighed in relief as he leaned up against the wall, coiling the phone's cord around his finger habitually. "Thanks Ron."

"You're lucky I'm able to tolerate you, Jagger," Ronnie's replied sternly, which gradually resulted into more laughter. "How's Keith? Has he beat you up again?"

"Surprisingly, no. Yet, at least. I think you've got a knack for intimidation."

Ronnie scoffed. Mick could hear him readjust the phone against his ear. "As I should. If he picks on you again, he can say goodbye to paying rent on time."

"Mhm. Thanks, 'dad.' I'm off then."

"See you Mick."

Even before the call had ended and Mick hung up, Charlie was already on his headstart of hoarding the freshly baked biscuits as soon as they were finished. Mick quickly set down the phone before Charlie could devour the rest, shoving the former away to get at least a bite. Charlie took most of the pastries and scrambled back to his bedroom soon after, closing the door and locking it.

"Charles!" Mick pouted, knocking at the door.

"Shut up! I'll get groceries later, just leave me be. Don't you have homework to do?"

Mick blinked. "Fine. I'm hogging the sofa for the day, though."

A defeated sigh came from the other side of the door. "I'll buy groceries." Charlie stepped out, already dressed prior to him having the quarrel with Mick over biscuits.

Mick happily counted the deal as his own victory, and went on to start on his schoolwork.

Keith wished he was just as enthusiastic with his schoolwork.

Upon digging into his bag, he found three week old assignments that seemed to pile up at the bottom. He even stumbled across a stuffed away test that was two months old, just being one of the several papers that were due for a while. Keith had laid off on homework for god knew how long; he just had the sudden boost to do at least one assignment that morning. He wasn't sure why, he was either insane or was attempting to humor himself just for the fun of it. Keith also figured it wouldn't hurt to ask for a bit of help. Help, meaning the kid next door.

Keith happened to catch a glimpse of presumably the window to the kitchen and the small living room across. A small lamp was turned on at the side, and a silhouette of a figure came into view, the shadow bouncing onto the wall of the other apartment room. Keith felt the slightest hint of guilt staring so shamelessly through Mick's window, but then again, it was right there. It wasn't like he was trying to stalk or spy on the boy, of course, he just wanted to check if anyone was home.

Keith had eventually gathered the courage to open his own window and leaned out. Their windows were a fair distance away, not too far nor close. It certainly wasn't in plain reaching distance, where Keith could just stick an arm out and touch the glass. He had to get Mick's direction; if he was even there. He couldn't recall if Mick had a roommate or not.

Keith found a nearby eraser that he had managed to scavenge from his bag. He had checked prior to see if Bill was asleep, of course. Keith wouldn't have planned on doing such a thing with his roommate awake. It wasn't as if Bill cared about what he did, be it stupid or risky; he just happened to stick his head into Keith's business silently, whenever the former wasn't aware. Keith brushed the thought off as he finally leaned out the window once more, careful as to not topple out and die. He held the eraser back, waiting for the right time and moment — then threw it.

The eraser hit the top of Mick's window, almost missing, but managed to make some kind of thud that even Keith was able to hear. Keith knew for a fact that the windows of the buildings on their street were terribly fragile. He had his experience with barely tossing stones at them and having them shatter into a million pieces. Keith was grateful that it hadn't happened then with Mick's window. 

Keith withdrew from the window immediately after seeing some movement inside of Mick's apartment. He waited, leaning against the windowsill as he saw Mick's figure appear into the frame. The latter looked outside confusedly before he opened his window, not seeming to notice Keith right away. As soon as Mick did, though, he jumped back and made a noise close to a small yelp.

"God," Mick started, leaning through his window as he finally faced Keith. "You could just knock at the door. You scared the shit out of me."

Keith grinned and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, his elbow against the window sill as he leaned forward further. "Sorry. But I suppose I could come over sometime then?"

Mick looked at Keith thoughtfully before nodding, allowing a small smile to twist onto his lips. "Yeah, why not? I don't have much to do over the weekends anyway. Did you need something?"

"I have some past due assignments. I was wondering if you could help catch me up with the lessons." Keith asked, in an almost bashful manner.

Mick raised an eyebrow curiously. "You wanna do missing work?"

Keith averted his gaze. "Yeah. If it's alright. I just have a load of it, so I kinda needed some help."

Mick stayed silent for a second, as his gaze lingered somewhere else. "Oh, well you could pass over the papers and I'll do it for you."

"What?" Keith asked, puzzled. "No no, I wouldn't want you to go through the trouble–"

"I'm serious, man. I have some work myself, but it's fine. Send them over."

Keith looked back at the stack of papers on his bed, and then at Mick once more. "How should we do this?"

As if a lightbulb went off in Mick's head, he bounced excitedly and nearly fell from the window after leaning up close. "What was it called... paper airplanes! You know, the folded thing–" 

"I know what a paper airplane is, Mick."

"Good. Send it over then."

So, Keith obliged and started folding five papers as a start. The assignments in question weren't too difficult, and only required a few answers. Keith prayed his aim would do him good as soon as he positioned himself in front of his open window once more. And, surprisingly, it did. The first three had floated across almost perfectly. The other two had a few flaws in their journey from Keith's room to Mick's kitchen, but managed to make it there anyway. 

Mick caught each one flawlessly, and faced Keith again with a childish smile on his face. "That was good. Real good."

Keith chuckled and leaned back on the windowsill as Mick collected the paper airplanes. "Yeah. Like our own post delivery service."

"Are you proposing we send each other letters through paper planes?" Mick gaped.

"What?" Keith laughed. "That's ridiculous. And a waste of paper. We're talking now, aren't we?"

Mick wasn't sure where his sudden excitement came from, but he blamed it on the nostalgia that the paper planes had brought him. "It's sounds nice, doesn't it? Perhaps in the evening you could send over late night work and we could go over it through writing."

Keith thought the concept over. He didn't necessarily care much about his grades, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to at least get a few passing scores as it was their last year. "It does sound good."

Keith's watched Mick in amusement as the latter's eyes lit up. Clearly, Mick was caught up with the childlike fantasies that his younger self would've adored. Folding paper planes and having a "penpal" felt like a lost childhood memory to Mick. He tried his best to not seem too joyous, of course; it was simply for school, it wasn't something to get stirred up about. Though, he was ecstatic that Keith happened to go with his concept and not brush it off as immature.

"We should try it out now," Mick suggested, as if he completely forgot he had schoolwork.

Keith, however, didn't seem to mind it either. "Yeah, a test run."

After a brief exchange of smiles, the two quickly scrambled off to write, as if it were a competition. Keith took his dear time, of course. It was clear that he had barely made an effort on his first letter. Mick was nearly at the point of doing the same, but figured that it wouldn't hurt to do something better, despite it being a test. He had spent a few more minutes to scribble down whatever word possible before the plane exchange.

"Gosh, I'm not very good at throwing things, Keith."

"Just try. Keep your focus on the open window." Keith reassured Mick. He had already flung his plane over, and the letter was perched properly on Mick's windowsill.

Mick had eventually took his chance – as a result, the paper plane nearly ended up taking the route down, but Keith was quick and leaned forward to snatch it before it did. Mick cheered silently and the pair withdrew from their perches at their windowsills to read their traded letters.

Keith unraveled Mick's letter hastily, nearly ripping into the weak paper. The boy's handwriting was legible, thankfully. 

_Dear Keith,_

_Our first letter exchange. Sorry for acting all eager. I thought the idea of paper plane penpals was nice. I figured it wouldn't make much sense to have just tossed this over with some effort and have it all blank._

_You should visit the record store more often! I don't make such offers, but I'm willing to listen to whatever record you pull out the next time you visit. We've established our amazing music tastes, so you could say I trust you in that field._

_Besides that, I'm not looking forward to classes tomorrow. It'd be nice if we could meet up again at the end of the week._

_Sincerely,_

_Mick_

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat after scanning through the letter. A sketch of a flower and a cigarette was at the bottom of the page, Keith noticed that too. He had only then remembered the lousy length of his letter. What was it? Oh, right, he simply drew a smiley face and signed it off. Mick. Always an overachiever, in school and wherever else.

"You're joking?" Mick's head popped back up into Keith's view from across. "I nearly write a full page and you do this?" Mick pulled up the bland paper and Keith laughed softly.

"A smiley face is a smiley face. But yours was good anyway." Keith replied plainly, prepared to get up.

"Keith!"

Mentioned Keith sighed. "Yes?"

"Penpal nicknames... do those exist?"

"Just plain nicknames, I suppose." Keith didn't seem to be paying much attention; but ended up facing Mick again eventually.

"We should have those. I'll call you puppy."

"Puppy?" Keith scoffed. "I'm calling you Bean, then."

"That settles it," Mick threw his head to the side in a dramatic act. "Puppy and Bean."

"God, you're going to give me an aneurysm." Keith responded dryly, searching Mick's face for something.

"If you're on the verge of having one, I suppose I'm doing something right."

And, surprisingly, he was, as Keith smiled for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! ^____^ a bit dry in this chapter in my opinion, but i think i touched upon some good things at the beginning especially! the concept of mick and keith sending each other paper planes any time of the day ... lovin it. neighbors trope serves me good. also the puppy and bean thingy came out of the blue, ofc its not their set nicknames hah. drop cute mick/keef nicknames for each other suggestions 
> 
> theres so many more ideas but to adding more chapters and more waiting! woop woop! also, i havent been feeling very swell with being overwhelmed with schoolwork, but updating and writing makes me feel a lot better :-) hehe dont worry abt me btw i write late into the night and do my work during the day so its ~balanced~


	7. Oh Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick and Keith, but Brian watches from afar.

The weeks that followed consisted of the pair slowly getting adjusted to their growing friendship. It seemed as if it was impossible, yet some sort of "unspoken respect" mingled between both Mick and Keith. Within their time of truly getting to know the other better, both had grown a particular regard for each other. 

Keith, as much as he hated to admit it, had started to grow increasingly fond of Mick's company as the days continued to pass along. He had grown so accustomed to the same pack of boys that swarmed around him that it had gotten irritating. Spending time with Mick brought out a personality he dared to reveal to anyone else. At Keith's perspective, Mick was down to Earth.

Mick had this distinctive aura of overall safety and comfort that Keith sought out whenever they hung out. Mick always listened attentively to what Keith would say. Mick was patient and genuine, and never shamed Keith for his interests or tastes. Mick brought out a sense of childish and free nature when Keith believed that such was nothing but unacceptable. Keith was never truly surrounded by such vibes on a daily basis. Before he befriended Mick, he always settled for the cold and barren emptiness that he received from his mates on a daily basis: smoking, badmouthing, and violence in every form. Keith begged for something new.

Being considered both as dangerous and a monarch around campus had always been the status quo for Keith, so it was a relief that Mick had come around to shift things up.

Mick, regardless of his intentions of befriending the other, had to admit he was also finding himself increasingly keen of Keith's congenial company. It was a relief to see the cat who had picked on him for so long take a step down from the almighty position that he was viewed at. Although Mick wasn't as successful as getting to know much about Keith and his backstory, the boy's presence was enough to pay off for it. Mick hadn't remembered the last time he so fondly went in depth about a favorite blues artist of his and had someone listening so intently. Although neither mentioned it, there was a connection they shared on the same level, both respectable and genuine.

Mick's hobbies were also seen in high regard in Keith's perspective. Mick had his art, his studies, and several other fields that he excelled greatly at, fields that Keith had never grazed upon before. Keith felt some sort of respect for that, an admiration towards Mick whenever he talked so enthusiastically about his future and ambitions. It was pleasant to know that Mick had somewhere to go, some sort of plan. Keith, however, had the eternal honor to wield a guitar and had a mindset of drifting to wherever he would be able to as long as he had his axe. It wasn't necessarily a life bound to a dead end, but it certainly felt like such, especially whenever Keith took the chance to think about his progress. 

Whatever rut Keith found himself in, though, it seemed as though Mick offered to haul him out every time. Their weekly letter exchanges had become a daily activity that both enjoyed equally. Keith felt a childlike anticipation whenever he woke up, rushing to his window to see if Mick had delivered him anything. And he always did. Mick's letters to Keith consisted of musicians he discovered, drawings scattered here and there, and occasionally, a request to hang out with Keith. Mick sometimes pressed small, colorful flowers within the crevices of the paper planes that he sent to Keith. The latter wasn't sure to make out of it, but it seemed like a Mick thing to do. It was strangely endearing.

Keith's letters to Mick were rather brief in length, but nonetheless, Mick counted it as something. Keith wrote about his day, what he'd done during school, and blues tracks that he had only discovered. Keith would attempt at his own doodles, a try at impressing Mick somehow, but they always turned out looking half-assed. Mick would tease him about the doodles in the planes he sent back.

Their time spent together was surprisingly limited. They only truly were able to hang out during the weekends, and even then, their plans would be foiled by a shift in Mick's work schedule or Anita's constant nagging. Keith also wasn't sure how to explain to Mick that he couldn't be seen with him during classes. During school, they kept their distance, though, usually not on purpose as Keith's entourage of mates always followed his tail. 

Mick and Keith had already established their steady friendship. There wasn't much of an urgency for Keith to sweeten up to the boy only to please Ronnie, as he was already undoubtedly fond of Mick. Mick's view on Keith was just as mutual. Upon befriending him, his methods of getting Keith to not pull shit transpired into a firm friendship. It was a surprise as to how their worlds collided, seeing how in plain sight they seemed completely different. Neither didn't seem to complain much.

A fresh new week had rolled around, Monday taking its usual toll on the tired and fatigue-ridden students. Keith found himself waking up earlier than usual, and wasted no time as he took the usual route straight to his window. A paper plane had found its perch on his windowsill, showing Keith that the other boy had gotten oddly better at aiming. 

Upon opening it, Keith made out the drawing in front of him as another self portrait. Keith was still in awe as to how Mick was able to create such a thing, even without a proper reference. It made him feel oddly self-conscious to know that Mick was observant of his facial details. Perhaps, that's what happened when a boy with fascinating facial structure was paired with an artistic one; Keith wasn't sure, but again, humored himself with the thought. He stowed the paper plane away in a shoebox, and shot a pencil at Mick's closed window.

Mick was sleeping on the couch, Keith noticed, because his head was the first shape to pop into view from the window almost instantly. Mick slid the glass open, and rested his chin against the cold surface of the windowsill as the early morning chill pierced his pale skin.

"Mornin' Keef." Mick greeted tiredly as a yawn escaped his lips right after.

"Goodmorning yourself, darlin'," Keith chuckled as he leaned up against his windowsill, observing Mick's sluggish expression. "Wanna get out after class?"

Mick shrugged. "I have a few hours from Ron, but perhaps we could grab a bite after."

"The usual fish and chips?"

Mick smiled. "Of course. Are you gonna walk with me to school or not? Charlie bailed out on me."

"Of course I will, mate. Give me a second."

Their walk to school was nothing but delightfully peaceful. Mick huddled in the warmth that was Keith's jacket, and the former shot a few glances his way every now and then. For once, something that neither had expected, they were genuinely content with each other. Keith ended up being a surprisingly good friend, and so did Mick. Whatever the two initially had thought about each other was abruptly pushed away by their already blossoming bond.

As soon as they arrived at school, though, they took their seperate routes and parted. Brian had already approached Mick, and Keith's mates had surrounded him in a mere second.

"Have you been to the new pub lately?" Brian quipped a question as soon as he and Mick entered the school's main building.

"New pub? Didn't know they opened another." Mick responded, rather detached from the conversation.

"It's real good, we ought to go sometime. I could call along Keith, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt."

"I wouldn't mind it." Mick replied, again somewhat absentmindedly until he heard Keith's name. "That's new. I thought you hated the guy?"

Brian shrugged. "You know it's not a full grudge or anything, birds come and go. I suppose I would just want him to tag along to pay off our drinks." Brian nudged Mick playfully; though, under his joking demeanor, Mick could tell Brian still hadn't gotten over losing Anita.

"Mhm; well, I'm off. Wanna get the day over with." Mick responded before he headed off to class although the bell had not rung yet. Brian watched on as the boy disappeared behind the corner, leaving the blond to wander back to his offer.

During lunch, Mick sat alone.  
He basked in the serenity and silence under his favorite tree. The stone he sat on was only slightly damp after a few nights of light rain. Auburn locks of hair fell delicately around his face, framing his view as he looked down at the sketchbook that sat in his lap. An unspoken concentration filled the atmosphere around Mick as he moved his pencil across the paper, temporarily disconnected from the world around him.

It all seemed perfect until Mick noticed some movement from his peripheral. A flurry of boys swarmed in abruptly, causing Mick to look up after hearing laughter along with the loud clicking of their shoes on the pavement. Mick gazed on curiously as a couple of boys stumbled forward, laughing at practically nothing as they shoved each other in childish horseplay. Mick watched their thin legs stretch against the dark, plaid fabric of their trousers, all topped off with leather jackets. Mick gradually discerned Keith's figure in the small crowd of boys as they flocked about.

"Keith, hey." Mick called out to the group, hoping Keith would notice.

As soon as Keith heard his name, though, the boy froze and had only then turned to face Mick. A few of Keith's friends had even looked back in confusion after not being able to recognize the voice. Mick watched as each head snapped around to face him, being seemingly a puny and defenseless boy against a group of threatening wolves.

"I remember you," One piped up, a snarl visible on his menacing features. "You're the bleedin' queer who listens to jazz."

"Blues." Mick corrected bravely, putting up a confident barrier.

"Shut the fuck up smartass!" The boy shot back, fists clenching as he made a lunging posture towards Mick.

Keith stepped in, quickly dissolving the situation before anything escalated further.

"Step off, man." Was Keith's warning as he stepped in between Mick and his friend.

The rest of his pack stared at him in awe. Mick wondered as to what he'd do next.

"I'll take care of him." Keith said firmly, voice low as he turned to Mick.

Oh fuck, Mick thought, almost three weeks down the gutter, his progress with Keith – gone. Mick panicked as he tried his best to devise a plan to get him the hell away. Despite his efforts, he sat, still and frozen as Keith inched closer, preparing to obliterate him. In a split second, Mick was suddenly sandwiched in between the looming figure that was Keith, and the rough surface of the tree behind him. Keith jammed a hand at the side of Mick's head, calloused fingertips brushing against the coarse bark. Mick was cornered; he could practically feel the warmth radiating from the other boy.

Mick had only then stepped back into what was reality as he gazed into Keith's dark, mahogany eyes. He was surprised to see a glimmer of regret and guilt twinged into his pupils. Mick's breathing hitched as he noticed Keith's close proximity to his body. He listened attentively as the almost muted chatter of the boys behind them faded off as they all scattered away. Perhaps they knew Keith would handle it himself. So, Mick waited for the long-awaited punch to his skull, or the flurry of insults and curses. It never came.

Keith pushed himself away as soon as he knew the coast was clear. He glanced away bashfully as Mick brushed himself off, still in shock from the entire situation.

"Well. That was a dick move." Mick said coyly, glancing up at Keith with an empty expression.

"I'm sorry." Keith sighed, his hands awkwardly dangling at his sides as he avoided Mick's gaze.

"It wasn't that big of a deal, was it?" Mick asked. Realization as to why Keith had done that settled in quickly, but Mick still felt the right to be pissed. "It's over, anyway. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore."

Keith reluctantly put a hand on Mick's shoulder to stop the boy from collecting his things to leave. Mick found it funny that Keith was being gentle despite the attitude he had put on when his friends were nearby. 

"Seriously. I'm sorry, Mick. I'll make it up to you, I swear, I'll buy you a shitload of milkshakes after school–"

Mick laughed softly, cutting off Keith's sputtering. The latter looked up in slight confusion as Mick ruffled up his dark and shaggy hair. "Keith. I know why you did that, alright? I'm kinda pissed, yeah, but the milkshake offer? You owe me one."

Keith let out a sigh of relief as he withdrew his hand from Mick's shoulder, a small smile curled up onto his lips. "It's the timing, y'know? I just wish they weren't always so fuckin' jumpy."

"You gotta control your herd, man. Your friends are assholes."

"I will, I swear. They always do this shit." Keith reassured Mick, though there wasn't an audible guarantee that he would. "Anyway, are we still up for lunch?"

"Yeah, after my shift." Mick replied, gathering his things as he walked ahead of Keith. "You want a smoke?"

Shit. How could Keith turn that down?

The concluding bell chimed its usual melody as Keith sauntered away, Mick still stashing away his guitar and sketchbook behind him. It was at that moment that Brian had ambled into Mick's view. The blond crouched down to meet Mick's eye level as the boy was kneeling to put his belongings away. Mick responded with silence, but offered Brian a smile without looking up at the boy.

"Wanna skip, Jagger?"

"Nah," Mick waved him off. "Gonna have a smoke."

Brian scoffed. "And you say I'm addicted to tobacco. Could I tag along?"

"Actually, smoking buddy slot's reserved, man." Mick said, a fake pout on his face to tease at Brian.

"Really?" Brian reeled his head back in playful disgust. "You got a girlfriend or somethin'?"

"Why do you always automatically assume I have a bird with me?"

"Cos you usually do. There's been a dramatic decline in girls that you drag around during class."

Mick settled for an exasperated sigh as a response before he actually said anything to the other boy. "It gets boring, don't you think? I'll see you later."

And for the second time that day, Mick left Brian to stare on after him. Though this time, Brian felt a twinge of suspicion gnaw at him. The past few weeks, Mick always seemed to have his head in the clouds, even more than he usual. The boy barely bothered to hang out with him during the weekends, too. 

Brian was usually a busy guy, considering the clientele he had gotten with his business almost daily. But even then, he'd find time to hang out with one of his actual friends; so it was odd to him how Mick seemed rather distant. Mick wasn't cold, nor was he giving Brian silent treatment, of course not, but he was in some sort of daze. Mick always seemed to be thinking of something, always lost in his thoughts as if he were planning a large project to get back to at home daily.

Brian noticed it all. He wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be suspicious about it. But like he always did, he kept an eye out anyway, even when he observed Mick slink behind the school building.

Keith was already lighting his second smoke when Mick had joined him. Wordlessly, Mick slumped down next to Keith, awfully close to the boy as he put his bag to the side. Silence was all that was exchanged as Mick reached over for a cigarette, nudging Keith for a light. There was that familiar, far away, almost hazy gleam in Mick's eyes as he watched the flames cling onto the cigarette. He hummed a thank you to Keith, and the two lolled lazily in the clouds of cancerous smoke.

"You know," Keith started, voice slightly raspy from the smoke. "I keep nagging you about a girl that doesn't exist."

Mick knew what topic he was trying to get into, so he chimed in, taking the lead of the conversation. "Gosh, Keith, I don't need a bird. You know, at least now. What's the point anyway, we're almost outta here."

And yeah, Mick had a point. Keith withdrew from the chat almost instantly. 

"I ought to ask you about your girl more often," Mick chuckled, glancing over at Keith. "Get the taste of your own medicine."

"We're fine, actually."

"But is she alright?" Mick jammed a finger against Keith's chest. "Cos lately, it seems as though you've been neglecting poor Anita."

Keith stared at Mick in some sort of bewilderment. He wasn't sure as to how the other seemed so aware of his situation with Anita. Ever since Keith had became proper friends with Mick, he realized that he rarely reserved enough time to spend with his own girlfriend. It was disgusting, yeah, it was vile and uncalled for, but Keith always felt a chain around him when she was present. Her pretty blond hair and vibrant eyes suggested something completely different than the clingy girl who needed things her way. An odd feeling struck Keith, but he allowed the cigarette smoke to ease the tension.

"She must be awfully upset you've replaced her with me," Mick said, and Keith turned in surprise although he knew the boy was joking. Mick poked at Keith again, and took a long drag before he laughed out smoke. Keith stayed silent.

There was this contagious laziness in Mick's every move that Keith picked up on. He was a carefree vessel, another boy adrift in life's dragging pace, a cat who talked endlessly but had so much left unspoken. Keith couldn't read through Mick yet, but it wasn't his main focus. He settled on being there, at that moment, with the other boy and a pack of cigarettes.

Mick blew a cloud of smoke on Keith's face.

"You know, for a second, I didn't actually think you'd wait for me."

Mick settled into the booth's seat across from Keith as the former gazed on with a slight smile. "What, you thought I'd bail on you?"

"Yeah. Thought you'd have enough of me for one day." Mick chuckled, chin rested upon his hand as he leaned in to meet Keith's gaze.

Keith noticed Mick's casual outfit consisted that of a beige turtleneck sweater and dark trousers; which, was odd, as before, he would've never thought of even looking at what the boy wore or what he looked like. It made Keith felt strange, strange how he suddenly became unnecessarily observant when Mick was near.

Their plate of fish and chips was already ordered, so Mick started on taking a few bites. Keith simply gazed on, a preoccupied glint in his eyes. Keith took the occasional glance away from the boy across from him, but he couldn't help but to notice Mick's baby blue eyes. They had a distinct nostalgia to them, a silent sadness, something Keith couldn't explain. It was soothing. He had to look away.

Mick's vanilla milkshake had eventually arrived by then, and the boy slid it over to the other. It was funny, Keith would buy Mick all those milkshakes but Mick always ended up giving them to Keith.

"You think they'll let us use the jukebox again?" Mick asked.

"Nah."

And, yeah, based on what happened just the other weekend, it hadn't gone down well. The boys hogged the jukebox for so long, the other patrons had found a way to complain and had landed them a temporary ban from using it. It was hysterical at first, the boys wouldn't stop cackling over it; until the aftermath of realizing they'd have to sit through hours of the Beatles settled in.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mick slumped back in his seat as Love Me Do played for what seemed like the umpteenth time that hour. "Could we go to your place?"

Keith blinked. "To... my place?"

"Yeah, if it's alright of course. You have a record player, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, uh, I didn't think you'd want to come over."

Mick cocked his head to the side. "Why's that?"

Keith shook his head in response and gradually gave in. "It's fine. I'll take you there after."

"Actually, I think I'm about ready to go now." And indeed Mick was, as he was already setting his pay on the table and had brought along his bag.

Keith nodded absentmindedly and started for the door as soon as Mick was following alongside him. The young night had just settled in, the sun's last few rays of light dimmed around them. Mick, somewhat distracted, inched closer to Keith and locked his arm within his. Keith didn't seem to mind it as much as he probably should've. He tucked the hand of the arm that Mick was clinging onto in his trousers' pocket, wanting to treat the gesture as nothing but casual. The two strolled along the sidewalk in absolute silence, the natural sounds of the evening being the only audible noises around them. Arms still locked together, they made their way to Keith's flat and withdrew from each other once they were in view of a few of the residents in the main hallway.

Mick's eyes wandered around the dimly lit halls until they finally reached Keith's place. Mick trailed behind him like a lost dog, unaware of the surroundings until Keith opened his room's door.

"My flatmate doesn't care much about guests, we could go to my room." Keith offered as he looked back at Mick.

Mick pouted. "But I wanna meet him."

Keith shook his head. "Wait, no, why–"

"You just said he doesn't care about guests?"

Keith looked away, slightly abashed. "Actually, he– he tends to bombard new guests with questions. Like as if he's interrogating."

Mick shrugged. "We'll see. Off to your room, I suppose."

So Keith waited until he knew things were clear inside, and dragged Mick alongside him. The lights were all off except for the cramped kitchen's lightbulb that hung by a cord. Bill often slept on the couch as he'd complain about Keith's snoring that came out of the blue every now and then. Sure enough, he was on the sofa, knocked out completely, or so Keith hoped. The two boys tiptoed over the creaky wooden boards until they reached Keith's bedroom. In a final, hasty attempt to finally get inside, Mick pushed Keith in and locked the door behind him once he stepped inside. 

"What the hell–" Keith sputtered, nearly toppling over onto his bed.

"You were taking too long." Mick stated simply. He flopped onto Keith's bed, immediately at ease as soon as he made contact with the soft bedsheets.

Keith sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Mick, the boy's eyes closed. "I don't think we'll be able to listen to anything."

Mick shrugged, eyelids still glued shut. "It's fine. Maybe another day."

Without a word spoken, Keith settled onto the bed next to Mick, barely touching the boy as he curled up next to him. His breathing, unsteady and in a jumble slowed down to a calmer pace as he allowed himself to slip into the blissful state of sleep. It barely took any effort for him, too. It was only then that Mick's eyelids fluttered open as he glanced over at the boy sleeping soundly next to him. His breathing hitched in his throat, unable to react properly as he studied the boy closely. Keith's shaggy, black mane laid around him loosely as his face contorted into a peaceful expression, all overcome by sleep.

Mick watched until he had to force his eyelids to shut once more before anything escalated beyond his reach. His heart thudded in his head. He prayed for slumber to take over. Keith's sleeping form burrowed in, and Mick surrendered to it.

_Oh. Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo :-)) another chapter up! chapters after this will only build up the bond further between mick and keith, but a bit of angst should start rising too ^_____^) any "feelings" mentioned in this chapter are still lowkey, but i'm trying my best to pace this story
> 
> i've been packed with assignments each week but i'm always happy to get back to writing this story, it's honestly therapeutic in a way and it takes my mind off things. that, and i love mick and keith so :-)


	8. If You Need Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mick and keith paint the town. mick learns more about his other half, and finds himself in a flurry of his own feelings; keith's figuring out his own.

Sunshine poured sparingly through the closed blinds that portioned off the only window in Keith's bedroom. Early dawn accompanied with the freeze of the morning settled in and had roused Keith from his deep slumber.

He had nearly went into cardiac arrest upon seeing another figure in front of him, but reality hit him and he remembered the night before quite vividly. Keith felt somewhat embarrassed, ashamed that he had left Mick awake and with no choice but to settle into bed. 

Speaking of the boy in front of Keith; he was at his most vulnerable, peacefulness gracing his delicate features as small rays of sun danced across his pale face. Keith had the sudden urge to trail a thumb across Mick's jaw, to feel the– enough of that, Keith thought, what the hell, he thought. It was a sudden urge, it didn't mean anything, of course, anyone else would've felt the same anyway.

It was still fairly early, so Keith encouraged the thought of sleep onto his clouded mind. Instead, he found himself staring, his gaze glued onto Mick. It was creepy, it was not something he'd ever do with his close friend, but the boy's facial features were enchanting and Keith hated himself for thinking they were. He just looks like a bird at this angle, Keith thought, any other guy would've thought so. Just a touch, no, he shouldn't, that's strange, Mick would wake up and start calling you out. Keith snapped his eyelids shut hastily before any of his thoughts could progress against him.

It was about ten minutes in that Keith heard the rustling of the bedsheets next to him. Barely opening his eyes, Keith peered over to Mick and saw the boy toss and turn. The latter abruptly threw an arm around the closest thing possible – which was Keith. The former was terrified, terrified to the point where he stayed completely frozen and prayed that Mick would stop unconsciously scooting up closer to him. Thankfully, Mick was stirred awake and had pulled away from Keith's stiffened form. Mick stretched and yawned, pulling blindly at the sheets beside him before he called out the first name that came to mind.

"Keith..? Keith?"

Keith had already jumped in the first moment his name was mentioned. Mick's eyelids fluttered gently before he had fully opened them, exposing his, dare Keith would say, pretty blue eyes.

"I'm here," Keith replied, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"What time is it?" Mick inquired tiredly, turning back to face the other boy.

"About five, don't worry."

Mick yawned. "Alright. Hey, uh, sorry for falling asleep. I probably should've left a bit earlier."

"No, no, it's fine, really," Keith assured the boy. "It was nice, actually– you know, 'cos my roommate usually wakes me up throughout the night."

Mick could sense the rush in Keith's voice as he added in his explanation. He laughed airily and sat upright. "He sounds unbearable. Anyway, speaking of roommate, I should probably get back to Charlie. My uniform's back there."

Keith nodded, clearly understanding but also equally oblivious. Mick had expected the boy to respond with something else, perhaps a drawback that would cause him to stay. Mick frowned and stood up.

"Actually, do you uh, have a spare uniform I could use?" Mick asked.

"Oh, I think I have a spare one from last year. I've never used it," Keith suddenly remembered, as he sat up and headed for his closet. 

Mick waited, seated on the edge of the bed as he gazed down at his still put together outfit. He had only realized then that the both of them kept on their clothes from the day before, and even worse, their shoes. Mick mused as to how they slept so soundly in such uncomfortable fabric. What nagged at Mick further was his belt which happened to be restraining his waist to the near point of suffocation. He fondled with the buckle and allowed the belt to topple to the wood floor.

Keith eventually tossed Mick the bundle of clothing before he retreated from his spot in the closet. "The toilet's just down the hall to the left. Try to be quiet, I guess, Bill's still on the couch. You're not out in the open for too long, so don't worry." Keith added, referring to 'the open' as being visible to Bill. 

Keith simply prayed his roommate wouldn't be awake to throw a flurry of questions towards a stranger who had just left Keith's bedroom; Keith had only then realized the situation and how Bill would take it without context, so he prayed harder. Mick nodded and started for the door, clutching the uniform as he walked out and into the hallway across. With an abrupt left turn, he stopped into the bathroom and closed the door.

While Mick changed, Keith took it as the time to get his uniform situated. He had only started on his vest before he heard Mick's voice waver through his opened door. His voice was laced with uncertainty as he called out for Keith once more.

"Keith? Could you help me?"

Keith was quick to pull up his trousers and fiddle with his belt as he made the beeline to the bathroom. Upon heading over to check on Mick, Bill was awake and had prepared to jump in with questions.

"Holy shit– who was that? Was that a guy? What'd you do with him?" Bill gaped, causing Keith to snap his head in his roommate's direction.

"For fuck's sake, Bill, don't take it that way," Keith hissed, already aware of what his roommate was implying with his raised eyebrow and accusing gaze. "He stayed over for the night, we passed out, nothing else."

"Yeah," Bill yawned, and for once, to Keith's appreciation, seemed too preoccupied in the haze of sleep to actually care. "You know what? Just don't try to shag each other while he's here. 'S too loud."

Keith rolled his eyes, regarding Bill once more before he realized what he was doing initially. He took the route back to the restroom and knocked on the closed door. "Sorry, what was it?"

"I think I left my belt in your room, could you fetch it for me?"

"Oh, of course, hold on."

Obediently and hastily, Keith retrieved the belt that the boy had left stranded on his bedroom's floor. Keith swore he could feel Bill's eyes pierce into his back when he walked across once more, belt in hand. It must've been a puzzling scenario for his roommate, given that Keith's explanation didn't seem too convincing to him. Keith hid behind the hall's corner and knocked on the bathroom's door once more.

"I got it."

"You can come in."

When Keith had heard those four words, a sense of relief washed over him. It was nice to know that there was some sort of trust between the two of them, which wasn't something he expected to build up, but was pleased with nonetheless. Keith thrummed his fingers against the door as some kind of last warning and slowly opened the door.

Now, a normal reaction would've been Keith handing the belt over, no problem, no other words needed. But when face to face with Mick's exposed back – with every bone and curve jutted out, shadows emphasizing his skinny frame; perhaps, Keith had the right to act differently.

"Oh– uh, shit, sorry." Keith stammered, arm extending behind him for the doorknob as he left Mick's belt on the counter.

Mick turned his head only slightly, laughing. "You sound jumpy."

"You told me to come in," Keith objected. "I have a right to act all jumpy."

"What?" Mick chuckled, amused. "Keith, it's just my back. I mean, you're lucky you didn't walk into me pulling my trousers up." Mick assured the boy, a light smile on his face as he slid on his dress shirt. 

He turned to meet Keith's flustered expression and reached for his belt, an eyebrow raised. Mick couldn't understand why the boy appeared so visibly sheepish. 

Perhaps Mick had planned to pull out such a reaction – perhaps he was even entertained by the result.

The pair had eventually found themselves walking along the streets as crowds of people whizzed past in their usual flurry of early morning activities. Mick felt drained; an immense drowse hung over his head simply from witnessing the morning buzz. He couldn't possibly imagine another day at school. Mick gazed at Keith, the former still loyally following beside him, who was also closer than anticipated, as if to not get caught in the occasional stream of strangers. 

Mick tugged at the boy's arm, and Keith took it as the indication to allow the other to slip his arm within his. A subtle feeling of protectiveness washed over Keith as he felt obliged to keep Mick from floating into the sea of people; when, in reality, Mick was just as protective of Keith. Upon locking arms (which seemed to become an increasingly growing habit for Mick whenever he had spent time with Keith), Mick proposed a suggestion to the other.

"Could we skip?" 

Keith's eyes widened as he glanced back at Mick. "That's... something I would've never heard from you. Let's do it, then."

"God," Mick laughed, his eyes crinkled in childish content as he tugged Keith the other way, completely rerouting their path. "It's as if I'm tossed around as the spitting image of Mother Mary. Some goody two shoes shit."

"Well, in my defense, you rarely speak in class–"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Mick cut him off quick, a grin on his face as he yanked Keith closer by the arm.

"–And you probably kiss up to the teachers, man. That might be telling us something." 

"Oh, piss off, Keith."

The bustling activity downtown was only a mere five minute walk away for the pair, so Mick was hasty in dragging Keith along. Keith didn't usually go downtown or engage in any social events except for when there were gigs to perform. Undoubtedly, local pubs were hotspots for aspiring musicians like Keith. He only wished that the audience went for the music and not the boys carrying the instruments. Keith itched for a guitar. He wanted to play something for Mick.

As for Mick, as if he had easily read the other boy's wishful expression, hauled Keith to the local instrument store that happened to be amongst the several other businesses littered downtown. While on their way there, Keith had felt oddly at ease whenever Mick glanced at him with a sickeningly sweet expression all while holding his arm close. It wasn't uncomfortable nor unwanted, both had genuinely felt a wave of content wash over them. Keith pondered, is this what having a real friend is like? Yeah, probably was, and he was pleased with it.

Upon entering the small shop, both were met with a familiar feeling of comfort. Perhaps it was the soothing and low strums that rang out from the acoustic guitars that appeased the boys. A few other guys around their age were hunched over on wooden stools, focused completely on the guitars they held. 

The raw smell of wood and fresh strings were carried out in waves throughout the store for both Mick and Keith. The latter couldn't help himself as he withdrew from Mick's grasp slowly, gazing at the new set of electric guitars that happened to be at the front. 

Mick had scampered off to the side, a desiring gaze set on the shelves that held a wide variety of harmonicas. While Mick was examining the cases, Keith had set his sight on a specific acoustic and went off to the side to give it a run. Mick followed momentarily after with a harmonica in hand, curious as to what the other half was up to.

Mick had suddenly found himself sitting on the cold wooden floor beside Keith, both in a crisscross position. Keith's back was hunched over, his guitar cradled in his lap. Mick watched in awe as the boy's fingers moved skillfully across the fretboard, strumming heavy barre chords and successfully hitting each note in a harmonious unison.

It wasn't a particular song, at least what Mick had observed; it was a bluesy rhythm that Keith seemed to have come up with, and Mick figured he could work with it. He fiddled with the harmonica that he had carried along before he blew a few experimental notes in order to fit in with Keith's playing. 

It was an instantaneous reaction, Mick's playing, that mingled with Keith's. Mick's harmonica wailed, sang to Keith's song and shrieked out long, drawn out notes. It was only then that Keith looked up at Mick in pure wonderment, still silent as his playing continued. The former had only regarded him quietly, a smile on his face as he blew out a few more notes. Even a few patrons had gathered around them, occasional glances here and there. Mick swore a few men who had been watching them were pondering a record deal. It wasn't his focus, though. 

His gaze lingered on Keith, and only on Keith. 

As the moment settled around them, they finished off on the same key, harmonica singing and guitar screaming. Scattered claps erupted from around them, and Keith could even see the store's owner watching from afar, clearly amazed. Keith shyly averted his gaze from the crowd around them, and looked down at Mick, who, in return offered a grin. Mick was fast in taking Keith's arm and guiding him out of the store almost immediately afterwards.

As soon as they were out, Mick released Keith from his grasp and opened his coat; which revealed at least three harmonicas stuffed hastily inside the inner pocket.

"Well. You didn't pay for those, didn't you?" Keith asked, voice low as he looked down at the harmonicas.

"What do you think?" Mick chuckled, looking quite proud of what he had done. 

"You're insane."

"You still love me anyway."

And, yes, Keith did. It was funny, seeing how his other friends would never pull such a thing, and yet the kid he had used to deem as quiet and useless had just stolen a set of harmonicas that most likely costed more than what he would earn from playing at pubs in a week. What an interesting boy.

"I'm surprised you got away with those." Keith added as they continued walking as if nothing had happened.

"Distract the audience, I say. They don't give a shit as long as you've given them a show." Mick stated, and Keith agreed quietly.

"Yeah. What are we doing next?" Keith said, but was cut off from his thoughts to see Mick frozen, staring at something ahead of them.

"Is that a photobooth? God, I never thought they had one here–" Mick whispered, his voice laced with audible excitement. "Shit, Keith, we gotta take photos."

"Nah–" Keith tried, a bit embarrassed as he thought the mere concept of the photobooth was childish and a stupid waste of time.

"Please?" Mick insisted, tugging at the boy's sleeve with an exaggerated pout.

And, of course, Keith fell victim to his blue eyes and pleading expression. "God, fine. But it's gotta be quick."

Mick had nearly jumped, clearly having no restraint from his excitement as soon as Keith gave him the go. He had practically dragged Keith to the small photobooth that was perched in front of one of the stores, and shoved him in. Keith stumbled into the cramped space as he sat on one side and Mick squished into the other. They were sat impossibly close, and the air around them seemed clamped up as soon as Mick had drawn the curtains that shielded the entrance. 

"We need coins," Keith piped up after observing the eyesore of instructions and buttons in front of them.

Mick had come prepared and pulled the desired amount from his coat's pocket, handing it to Keith. The latter dropped the coins into the slot, and soon, they were instructed to pose. 

"I've never, uh, used one of these, Mick–" Keith stammered as the first countdown started.

Mick made a sympathetic noise before he pulled Keith close, an arm around the boy's shoulder. 

Keith stiffened up but tried his best to not screw things up as he smiled at the camera. Upon the flash, it signaled the second photo, and Mick turned to face the other boy; who seemed surprisingly entertained, as he was laughing almost hysterically at Mick's antics. The former threw his arms around Keith's neck and grinned goofily at the camera as they waited for the next flash. 

Keith thrashed around in Mick's arms, laughing his ass off as the other boy couldn't help but to join in. After keeping up their horseplay, the small lightbulb flashed, indicating the timer for the last photo. Keith wrapped his arms around Mick's torso, and the latter reciprocated the gesture, except by putting his arms around the other's neck. Mick moved his face up against Keith's so that his cheek had brushed up against the other.

The two laughed in unison as the countdown started, both seemingly unable to not keep still for a few seconds. Right before the camera snapped the final photo, though, Mick turned his head to face Keith and kissed his cheek briefly. Keith didn't seem to mind it much, surprisingly, as he was too caught up with his fit of laughter. Though, Keith had felt Mick's soft lips graze barely upon his skin. And Keith also felt his face warm up momentarily before the flash finally went off, and had felt an additional sense of dullness once Mick had withdrawn from their embrace.

Keith followed Mick out of the photobooth, his hair slightly ruffled up and his breath at an unusual pace after laughing for longer than usual. Mick was one step ahead of the other as he had already retrieved the two photo strips that each had the four photos. Mick handed one to Keith and had kept one for himself, eyes still scanning over the black and white film. Keith had quickly stuffed his away in his back pocket and looked up to see Mick still observing the photos.

"You.. You kissed my cheek." Keith said, as if he had just realized what happened in the photobooth.

Mick had looked up in slight confusion. A nervous laugh tumbled clumsily past his lips. "Erm, yeah? It didn't mean anything, you know–" 

"No, I know, it's just–"

"Keith," Mick replied sternly. "If it made you uncomfortable, you can tell me."

"Mick.. stop. I just wasn't expecting it, it wasn't uncomfortable, I was very much comfortable, actually." Keith replied, his response slightly exasperated. 

"So, uh, you didn't mind it?" Mick asked, hope in his voice. "I just– I just figured, since we're close friends and all–"

"I didn't mind it Mick, I promise you." And Keith smiled.

Mick had saw that smile a good amount of times, and yet, for some unexplainable reason, he felt weak in the knees.

The two proceeded on their trek after that, both deciding on a stroll to the park as their final activity for that day. Keith had bought Mick an ice lolly on the way there, one of those treats with the colorful printed wrapper. Though their arms weren't linked like usual, they still walked close together, almost as if their sides were glued together, unable to stray far away from the other. Keith could feel Mick's shoulder brush up against his occasionally, and he'd tense up momentarily.

There was an instance where Mick offered his frozen treat to Keith after a few licks, and Keith obliged, licking the side as he watched Mick's curious gaze. Mick's eyes simply widened, and he yanked away the popsicle from Keith's face, almost flustered. It was strange to both of them; but the two treated it like a joke, yes, of course, just a joke, what good friends they are.

After what seemed like an eternity of an endless walk through the streets, they finally reached their destination. The park didn't have much to offer aside from the basic playground and trees surrounding it, but it did have a fantastic view of the sunset and had conveniently placed benches scattered all over. 

The pair found themselves sat upon a bench after a few minutes of wandering around. Keith, clearly tired, was slouched up against the bench, a lazy arm dangling while placed subtly behind Mick. The latter had his knees up to his chest as he sketched away at the empty wrapper of his finished ice lolly. Keith would glance over every now and then to see what the boy was up to, and Mick would stay silent, focusing on the small scrap of paper. Keith noticed that the boy seemed to have a world of his own sometimes, a special escape that only he knew and would go to whenever possible. Keith wished he was close enough to Mick to be able to journey into those crevices.

Mick, on the other hand, wished he could understand Keith better. Perhaps, they both just wanted to understand each other better.

Mick quietly passed Keith the wrapper, which, Keith assumed had the finished result; and it was. It was yet another side profile of Keith – and Keith wasn't irritated nor creeped out. It was admittedly flattering. He felt the need to praise Mick on how well it was done, despite the illustration being a messy sketch.

"I don't understand how you're able to get every feature down so well," Keith said in awe. Even despite the limited space on the wrapper and the dull pencil that Mick had used, the drawing was still a type of beautiful Keith couldn't explain. "I.. I really like it."

Mick smiled gently and hummed in response as he leaned up against Keith, his head rested upon the boy's shoulder.

Maybe, Mick thought – maybe this was okay. Maybe Mick did feel something, something he couldn't decipher, maybe it was alright if he felt such a way. As long as he was on good terms with Keith, he'd be alright. 

"You couldn't possibly be thinking of that, could you?" Mick thought to himself when he saw Keith smile, the boy's face radiating under the orange setting sun. "What's wrong with you?" Mick cursed at himself when he saw Keith's piercing gaze linger on his own.

Mick felt a certain way; it was odd, and new, and it was unlike anything he'd felt in the past. He hated it because it was new, but he also hated that despite knowing Keith, he didn't truly understand him. If it meant going through whatever obstacle to get to Keith, to get to whatever he hid behind, he'd go through with it. Now or never.

"Keith," Mick tried, uncertain. "What happened before?"

"What– what do you mean?"

"At the diner, do you remember? We were talking about our childhoods and it's been.. it's been nagging at me, you know, how quiet you were about it."

"Why are you asking me this?" Keith asked, though, the question came off rather annoyed.

Mick recoiled instinctively after hearing Keith's sudden tone change, and the latter couldn't help but to feel bad. He gave in.

"..My childhood," Keith mused as he looked off to the distance to avoid Mick's gaze. "It really wasn't anything special, you know, how I was raised and where. Hell, I barely remember anything from when I was a toddler."

Keith laughed, a bittersweet laugh as Mick listened on. "I think– I think when my parents divorced is when things really settled in. I know one thing though," he said as he glanced at Mick. "My dad was an asshole."

"He always thought I couldn't do shit for myself. He started losing hope for me when I dropped from technical school, well, he never really had much hope for me in the first place when I began running blues records at home. I haven't talked to him at all after he split from my mum." Keith looked over at Mick, slightly embarrassed at how much he had already revealed.

The former only insisted it further with a gentle and encouraging gaze. Keith sighed. 

"I– I sometimes blame what happened on me. I was unruly, I still am now. But– but I guess my dad's expectations and what he wanted,, I felt the need to rebel against what he wanted me to be. I wated to rebel against him, wanted to rebel against what he believed and everything around me. And he fucking hated that, I'm sure he left because of that, because I'm destined to a dead end and his son couldn't do shit except to strum at a guitar," Keith looked away and chuckled. "And it ended up with this. Nothing's changed."

Keith felt the prick of tears threaten to spill, so he stiffened up and moved away from Mick. The boy looked away and tapped his finger against his knee repeatedly, a habitual reaction. "You weren't supposed to say all that, you daft cunt–" he thought to himself, and he knew Mick would hate him.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to come out all at once." Keith said, his voice raspy and low as he proceeded to look down, his eyes scrambling to direct his attention somewhere else.

Mick lightly touched the other boy's shoulder and rubbed patterns against the tensed muscle. "None of this shit's your fault, Keith," Mick pursed his lips thoughtfully as he took the unresponsive Keith into a gentle embrace.

"And stop saying you've got a dead end life, baby. I sure as hell don't see that for you, and your father couldn't understand that, alright? C'mon, you're not crying, are you–?"

Keith, still unable to react, allowed Mick's arms to wrap around him protectively. He was able to regain his composure, thankfully, and delivered the hug back to Mick. "I'm not, shut up." He mumbled as he let his chin rest upon Mick's shoulder.

Despite the heavy feeling of dread that lingered in the air, they both found an indistinguishable warmth within their shared embrace. Keith felt the anchor that was once chained to his leg break off, and for once, he felt relieved. He wanted nothing but to stay in the comfort of Mick's arms and reassurance. 

Mick felt something bloom in his chest, and he smiled, laughed, until Keith did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo!! alright so gonna dive straight in: this is their best friends stage!! from this point on, not only will their relationship develop more, but suspicion and angst will rise soon!! i didnt want to draw out any interactions or feelings of hesitation for too long, so here's a chapter to establish how both are feeling, especially mick :-)
> 
> i have a lotta things to plan out, and i wanted to make things better paced, so i figured id push out keith's backstory out of the way so the twins would finally get that close friends bond. interaction with the other characters will happen soon and i hope i can start developing more ideas for the next chapter to progress this ^____^
> 
> anyway, thanks for those who have been keeping up with this story, as long as ppl enjoy it, its my drive 2 continue!!


	9. Hide Your Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets into some trouble with Anita. Mick reveals something to Keith. In the background, a pair of blondies meet behind the scenes once more.

"So, how was your day out?"

Mick raised his head to meet Charlie's curious gaze. What had happened the day before occupied Mick's mind, and it had only occurred to him that he still had school and a flat to attend to after he had said farewell to Keith. Charlie was persistent in knowing of Mick's whereabouts and only had the chance to properly ask him that morning. After all, not only was he gone for an evening, but also for school. Even Ronnie had called up twice to ask for Mick, and Charlie had to step in to say that he had skipped school.

Charlie wasn't one to poke into things, especially into his roommate's business. Mick had his own things to worry about, and so did he. But there was something oddly offputting at how Mick's gaze seemed to wander somewhere else when he tried to talk to him, or when he avoided questions that involved – Keith. Something wasn't adding up, at least to Charlie. So when Mick had been gone for a good amount of time, Charlie felt he had the right to be confused.

So, that morning, right at the table, Charlie finally asked over breakfast.

"It was great, actually," Mick stated casually, a surprise to Charlie. "I was with Keith the entire time."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Did he do anything to you?"

"What– what does that mean?" Mick asked suddenly, a bit flustered at his roommate's inquiry.

"I mean if he pulled anything, you know, nagged at you." Charlie repeated, confused as to why he had to explain the context behind his question to Mick.

"Oh. Oh, well, he didn't. We just went around town, it was really quite nice,"

Charlie hummed in response as he poured Mick a refill of tea, the clouds of steam wafting up from the cup as he did. He set the kettle down and sat across from the other boy, still engaged in the conversation.

"Well, alright. I just wanted to know where you were, that's it. We both have our funds together for this flat, you know, can't have you wandering off." Charlie attempted to joke.

"You know I wouldn't, Charles," Mick smiled at Charlie, a brief silence between them as the former smiled back. "I would never wander off on you, not even for Keith fuckin' Richards."

"That's something I feel can't be promsied," Charlie chuckled. "I swear you're in love with him, you talk about him all the bloody time."

Mick laughed, a challenging glimmer in his eyes as he leaned against the table slightly. "So what if I was in love with him?"

Charlie shrugged, as if he was completely unfazed by what Mick said.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind. You used to bring home boys and girls. You'd subtly compliment every guy who passed down our street from the window, like a creep–"

"Oh, piss off." Mick snorted, directing his focus to his hot cup of tea.

"Yeah, so as I said, I wouldn't care. It would be strange, though, wouldn't it? Seeing how he's pushed you around before," Charlie pointed out. Mick shrugged.

"Turns out he's actually not too bad of a guy. He's an awful lot different than what I expected."

Charlie sighed and looked up from his own plate to make eye contact with Mick briefly. The latter regarded Charlie silently before he appeared to wander lost in his thoughts once more, an indecipherable expression on his face. Charlie realized something, but he stayed quiet and went back to poking at his food. Charlie knew something that Mick possibly knew, he knew something that he wasn't sure even existed. But watching Mick; he knew there was something occupying the boy's thoughts.

Charlie felt that Mick was a lucky bastard. No, he knew, he knew Mick was lucky enough to have him to turn to. He could recall the time the boy came up to him in a fit of tears, his face drenched as he struggled to get coherent words from his mouth. And Charlie knew before Mick could even tell him, "I think I fancy boys too, Charlie," or, "what do I do, Charlie?" 

The scenario could've gone two ways: Charlie could've peeled Mick off of him, told him to fuck off, or something of the sort. Yet, surprisingly, he ended up consoling the boy and told him over and over that he didn't give a shit. So, yes, his roommate was a lucky bastard. Charlie was sure, if any other prick was in his shoes, he would've ratted Mick out already.

Keith, on the other hand, wasn't experiencing the same luck as he couldn't seem to get his own explanations through to Bill. The latter seemed to be doing the complete opposite in what Keith wanted him to do when he informed him of his whereabouts. 

"So you and your boyfriend–"

"Not boyfriend, Bill, stop, I'm no queer and you know I'm with Anita," Keith hissed, irritated at the amount of times he had to explain it to his roommate.

"Alright, alright, friend. Slept together, went out downtown for some date to while skipping class–"

"Bleeding hell, Bill, why are you so fuckin' obsessed with what we were doing? You barely say anything about it when I'm with my other friends!"

"Because they're your friends! This is the kid you'd talk shit about, and now you're telling me you opened up to him during your date, and built some sort of trust to get him into bed–"

"For the last time, Wyman, we slept. Fuck you, you always do this, knock it off‐!"

With that, Bill retreated from the conversation as he gave Keith an empty stare. Keith furrowed his eyebrow as he gazed back, topping off the gesture with a sigh of frustration. "I just don't get why you're so bothered about this. Mick's a friend."

Bill stayed silent. By the tone in which Keith responded in, Bill already knew there was something going on. Keith looked – confused. Bill noticed that he seemed conflicted, conflicted about something all while he would be lost in his thoughts. It was happening right in front of him, after all. Keith was tapping his fingers against the dinner table, and his gaze was pulled abruptly away as if he was angrily pondering something. 

As if – as if there was something that he couldn't help, something that was inevitable where he could only react in annoyance. Bill couldn't put his finger onto what Keith was fighting against. He knew it was something on his mind, but what it could've possibly been was something he couldn't figure out.

"I think we're good here. Get to school, then," Bill said dully, a blank stare on Keith as the boy rose up from his chair in a fit of toned down irritation.

"Oh, Keith, you should talk to Anita. She rang up earlier yesterday, and she didn't sound very happy."

Keith shrugged as he managed to hide any traces of concern on his face. "I could find her at school, she'd understand,"

"Surprise, I don't think you'd be able to," Bill deadpanned. "She should be waiting outside right about now."

Keith nearly jumped at Bill's response as he wasted no time in scrambling to the door. He peered through the peephole; and sure enough, through the dirty glass was the familiar blond-haired girl standing at the side. Her face was red, and her hair was slightly mussed up, as if she had been crying initially. Keith gulped. Bill said something, but Keith didn't bother to hear it as he opened the door to meet the teary-eyed girl.

It was an interesting greeting, really, as Keith was met with the hard sting of Anita's hand across his cheek. He reeled back slightly, his hand quick to cradle his reddened and stinging skin. Anita, despite seeming quite vulnerable with her tear-stained face and whatnot, appeared to be ready to detonate just then. Keith tried to reason with her before she could do so, but alas, to no avail.

"You cunt," Anita spat out. "You absolute bastard–!"

"Anita, please," Keith tried, but was cut off once more.

"Save it. You've barely been spending time with me, you skipped school and did God knows what, you left me alone, how do you think I'm feeling?"

"C'mon, I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry, you know that–"

"You've been telling me that these past couple of weeks and you still haven't! Are you seeing someone? Who is she?" Anita pressed on, her words stinging as she cornered Keith.

"God, he's a friend, what don't you understand?" Keith tried to turn away, but Anita gaped at him and kept him from doing so.

"So you choose your friends over your own girlfriend?" Anita laughed, tears threatening to fall once more, and Keith swore he had heard that same line sometime before. "That's so sweet of you, really– can't believe I have to keep repeating this to you,"

Keith was at the point of breaking, but he maintained his posture. "Anita, please, I swear, I'm sorry,"

"No, Keith, you know what, just leave me at class, do whatever you're doing," Anita continued on, her voice breaking. "Would you really want to do that to me? Choose your mates over me? Who the hell do you think you are, you bastard–"

Keith had to take everything in him in order to not snap back. "I'm sorry. Could we go now?"

Anita shook her head quick and backed away, tears already shed. "No, fuck you. You're lucky I still even bother to try for you, Richards."

As if the scenario couldn't be more overdramatic for Keith's tastes, the girl had fled off in a flurry of tears. It was almost sickly hysterical to Keith, seeing as such an issue had always been present between him and Anita. She seemed to strive off of Keith to the point where she leeched on to an unbearable extent. Keith wasn't sure if he was willing to take anymore. All he knew, is that Anita would end up curled up against him once more, and he'd feel guilty all over again. 

Keith thought of it as he walked out, the warm rays of sunshine encouraging him along the sidewalk. Something wasn't clicking between them, and Keith knew that, he knew that what they had going wasn't the healthiest, but he never wanted to end up hurting Anita for good.

"Hey babe."

Actually – one possible exception to contradict that prior thought. Keith smiled as soon as Mick came bounding over, the same familiar grin on his face.

"How do you find me so easily?" Keith asked, a smug look on his face as Mick walked alongside him.

"Find you? I looked, idiot, you're usually very punctual when leaving in the morning." Mick shot back, and Keith chuckled.

Mick then suddenly tugged at Keith's jacket sleeve, causing the former to look back. "Charlie should be bringing along Brian soon, could we wait a bit?" He asked, and of course, Keith nodded.

The pair eventually arrived in a mere five minutes or so, and Mick retreated from Keith's side to walk with Charlie. Brian, who had been talking to Charlie initially took the spot next to Keith as they proceeded to the campus. It was bad timing, at least for Brian, as Keith had just started thinking about what had happened to him that morning. The feeling of dread washed over him as he realized he had to deal with it later on. He tensed up further when Brian had approached.

"Morning, Keef."

"Hi."

Brian took notice to the sudden change in Keith's posture and expression. "You alright?"

"I'm good, I suppose."

The blonde wasn't convinced. "I think something happened, you sound tense."

Keith sighed heavily and glanced back to the side as his gaze lingered on Mick and Charlie walking nearby. "Anita and I had another quarrel this morning."

"Oh," Brian blinked. "Is she alright?" He asked tentatively. 

Keith shot a glance over. Clearly Brian would only care about Anita. "She ran off crying for no reason, I dunno. It's gotten tiring."

"Are you two– are you still together?" Brian asked, though, there was an odd tone of hope in his voice.

Keith furrowed an eyebrow and glared at Brian. "Of course. I'm giving her time, I think."

Brian mumbled something and withdrew from Keith's side to walk at a slower pace. The former didn't even attempt to look back at Brian, and stayed closer to Mick's side. Speaking of the latter; Keith felt at ease once Mick directed his attention back to him. They talked about their recent paper planes, and Mick gushed about something Keith couldn't quite remember, as it wasn't his main focus. 

Mick appeared to be glowing. Keith felt something lodged in his throat when the boy brushed up against him or yanked at his sleeve. Mick, on the other hand, felt an urge to reach out for Keith's arm again, to hold his face in his hands or to sling an arm around his shoulder. They laughed stupidly, and closed off everything else around them, even if it was temporarily. That was something they could do, Keith thought, and it put his mind to wander off from what had been pulling at him.

Charlie was the third wheel for the rest of the walk.

And so, with what used to be Keith and his friends turned into Keith and Mick, and what used to be Mick and Brian morphed into Mick and Keith. Perhaps Brian couldn't tolerate it any longer, as he had clawed at Mick for answers during lunch. 

"Mick, you're scaring me, man,"

Mick shot a glance at the boy from across the table, and eyed him from his gold crown of hair to his fidgeting hands. "What's scaring you?"

"You've been quiet, I dunno, it's been like this for a few weeks now," Brian stammered under the boy's glare. "I didn't need to ask, but it's been a bother, you know, how quiet you are. Are you alright?"

Mick sighed upon realizing that his absence and overall distancing over the weeks had stirred up genuine concern from his best friend. It was strange at first to see Brian reel back slightly at Mick's irritated stare, but the latter's expression softened once he knew he had to the draw the line.

"Sorry," Mick sighed again. "I've been out of it, I know, I just– I've just been getting along with Keith a lot, he's a really nice guy. We've been out and such."

"Keith?" Brian cocked his head to the side. "I knew there was some kind of friendship, I just didn't think you went that deep with it."

Mick smiled slightly. "He's sweet, you know. A strange type of sweet."

Brian let out a relieved chuckle. "That's.. that's good. It's nice you're mending shit with the guy."

Mick nodded in agreement, a smile curling onto his lips as he continued to pick at his lunch. He saw Brian staring at something behind him from his upper peripheral view, but he couldn't seem to care much at what had occupied the boy's gaze.

"Mick, hey. Speaking of Keith."

As soon as Mick's name was uttered from Brian, his head snapped up and darted behind him to see whatever Brian had been observing. And, yes, speaking of Keith, the former was definitely there, only, a bit harder to see as he was completely swarmed by a frenzy of students, the majority behind his close friends. Keith was in the center of it all. Mick could hear Keith's mates cheering about something, but whatever it was, it didn't sound as signficant as he thought it would be.

"He's irritating," Brian pouted as he slumped against the table. "His friends fuckin' jump him when he's gone for a day."

"Are they upset?" Mick asked, his eyes still wandering across the scenario that unfolded from the other side of the cafeteria.

"They're only upset that Keith didn't let them tag along." Brian said nonchalantly as the rumble from afar continued.

"Keith, you're a tosser–!"

"You'd better fuckin' take us next time, man."

Keith forced a laugh. "Yeah, of course, sorry. Now, get off me, twats,"

Like obedient and trained dogs, the group of teddy boys ran off to the side in a flurry of limbs and leather jackets. Keith had no choice but to stay at the side and pretend to be entertained by his frankly irritating group.

Mick gazed at Keith and had frowned once the bell rang out of the blue. He found himself caught up in the usual push and shove frenzy that occurred right after the familiar melody. Before lunch, the school had sent out the message that classes were cut off short due to the heavy rain that had abruptly blanketed over the cloudy skies. In hindsight, it seemed like a good deal to Mick at first, until he realized he didn't carry along an umbrella. 

He wanted out. He wanted to talk to Keith again, even though there had only been a three hour gap between the last time they did. He wanted to hold his arm, he wanted to ruffle up the boy's untamed locks of black hair, like how any friend would, clearly. Mick shoved his disorganized thoughts to the side, and made his way out, carelessly leaving Brian to deal with the portion of students in his lane. The heavy pour of rain had only amplified once Mick walked into the busy hallway and went out the exit to the side of the school.

He frowned as he stepped into the rain, completely exposed, Keith's leather jacket one of the only layers that protected his uniform underneath. A cold wave of wind brushed through the rain and pricked at Mick's cheeks which had turned red. He rushed to the back of the school, where he prayed he could find shelter under the jacket and wait for Keith to hopefully come around. Which, he knew he would, they passed notes during class.

And Keith; he couldn't leave Mick out in the rain, so when he stepped out of the cold building to be met by a harsher chill, he made his way to the back of the school with his umbrella. Upon checking around first before he slipped behind the building, sure enough, Mick was there, nestled under Keith's jacket as he sat in the mud. It was a terrible display to Keith, really, seeing the boy drenched and shivering. The fact that Mick waited for him too was admittedly embarassing to Keith. The latter was quick to shelter Mick under his black umbrella as he scooted in against Mick, the brolly between them.

"Hi."

Mick smiled and squinted through the haze of rain droplets that blurred his vision. "Hello."

And like Mick had hoped for, they talked again, sharing heat between their two bodies to manage through the cold rain. It hit Mick, how close they were, how easily they talked despite the thunder that erupted in the distance, mingling with the pouring rain. Mick knew he liked Keith. It was painfully obvious to the point where he began mentally beating himself up for it. He wondered if Keith caught on. He wondered if Keith even liked blokes. 

Ah, blokes. Pretty boys, Mick thought, and pretty girls. 

So when Keith asked about Mick's nonexistent girlfriend once more, it was disappointing as to how Mick was quick to arranging his thoughts into words.

"Keith," Mick said, but the other continued to ramble on about how he had met a few girls the other day, and how he thought Mick would like one of them.

"Keith," Mick tried again, and yet, there was still no clear sign that Keith would stop talking.

"Keith, please." Mick said in a final and desperate attempt – which, had worked, as Keith stopped in his tracks and gazed back at the boy.

"What– what is it?"

"Keith,, can't you see? I like boys." Mick said it, stammered it almost, and even he was surprised at how easily it slipped out.

Silence. "Oh, hold on, sorry. I like girls too." Mick added, as if it would make anything better.

He braced himself, a tactic he was already far too familiar with as he waited for the blowing punch to his jaw.

Instead, nothing.

"When's the part where you call me a faggot and push me aside?" Mick tried, clearly surprised, but Keith simply smiled, yes, smiled.

"I mean.. I don't think I see a problem with that,"

Mick tried not to tear up. "Come on, I'm scary or some shit, you should get as far away as possible–"

"Stop that, you're so daft," Keith said as he placed a hand on Mick's thigh. "Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Stop. If you cry, I'll actually beat the shit out of you. It's– it's good you told me."

Mick laughed and sniffled as he pressed his arm against Keith. "Sorry- that was completely out of the blue. You'd just ask me constantly about a bird, and I figured you should know, I just got irritated, I'm sorry," Mick said sheepishly.

"You know, I had some encounters with a few boys in primary school." Keith said, an attempt to make Mick feel better.

"You- you did?" Mick stuttered.

Keith shrugged. "Don't all younger boys do?"

"I'm being serious, Keith. We all know primary school was set up for experimentation," Mick shot back. "I think I experimented far too much and ended up enjoying it." He mumbled, his face blank as he looked off to the side.

Keith shook his head. "Mick, at this point, I could care less. It's fine, I support you." And in a sing-song voice, he mumbled a quick, "I still love you," and laughed softly once Mick had given in and smiled back.

The entire exchange had made Keith think. The two of them stared off into the distance as Mick laid his head down in Keith's lap, a content sigh escaping his lips, an unspoken relief from both sides. Things were good, Mick wondered if he'd be able to continue it on with Keith. There was a gleam of hope there when Keith looked down and smiled sweetly at Mick. The gleam was very faint, but it was there, and Mick felt better. Just the two of them.

Perhaps, three.

Brian could've walked off without catching a single glimpse of Keith wandering to the back of the school. He could've ignored it, but how could he? Keith had made it so clear, laid it out in plain sight when he peeked out to check the surroundings before he finally disappeared behind the building. 

Brian had been on the brink of suspicion, and it had just gotten better for him. After successfully beating the traffic inside, he wandered out to look for Mick, and as if a miracle had occurred right in front of him, he saw Keith. He saw Keith slink behind the school as if no one would see. Was this what Brian had wanted desperately? For how long was he out to gut Keith for taking the blond-haired goddess that used to be his? No, it wasn't revenge, revenge sounded awfully pathetic, it was pointless and the blond couldn't bring himself to use it. 

Brian had simply allowed his suspicions to take over, and came to a final conclusion: Keith, you dirty bastard, you're cheating on Anita, and instead of telling her right off the bat, I'm going to fuck around with you.

And Brian could've left it at that. And he did, as he started out of the school, mind swarming, back onto the sidewalk. And he did, as he walked up the stairs to his room, and he did; well, up until the point where he came face to face with the telephone on the kitchen counter. It wouldn't hurt to call, he thought, and his fingers grazed against the numbers until he heard the same, pretty, pretty voice pick up on the other line. He grinned against the transmitter.

_"Don't get any wrong ideas. I just want to talk, 'Nita."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not exactly ANGST angst yet but things have been set off and we're ready 2 take off for more development wahoo ^___^ man oh man they're gonna be oblivious as fuck ... after this chapter i need 2 start really thinking up the rest of the plot and how its gonna thicken im pretty excited !! 
> 
> also, classes were kinda rushed this chapter because i didnt know how 2 properly get the suspicion going, so i settled 4 this wahh ill make next chapter a bit better
> 
> i cant give an actual answer as to when mick n keith finally accept the gay, but all i will say is that it will be soon. not actually soon but it will be muah xo


	10. Can I Get a Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the blondie tells mick something. things fizzle behind the scene. mick and keith are happily oblivious. emotions in denial rise once more when keith gets a bit tipsy.

Keith would've known exactly what was brewing in the background if he hadn't been directing most of his attention towards a certain boy.

Perhaps it was good he was blissfully oblivious, he had better things to focus on. After all, things had only gotten better after Mick had come out to him; the two had only grown closer. It was strange, as in the past, Keith would be told by teachers and friends to stay away from "those type of people," or to stay wary. Homosexuality – or rather, bisexuality, in Mick's case – was not a foreign term to Keith. Neither was homophobia. He had already tried desperately in the past to misunderstand it, to abide with the unacceptable side that went against it. But how could Keith do so when even he had a few encounters with blokes in the past as well? It was all experimental, of course, he reminded himself after he told Mick about it. Just a young schoolboy messing around with the others.

Mick, even after he had come out, was still shocked as to how Keith was fully supportive of him. Never in a hundred years did he imagine coming out to the boy who pushed him around in the past, but he decided that things happened when they were supposed to. After his rather abrupt announcement of being bisexual, Keith didn't seem to have much to say. It was just as normal as before, only, there was an unspoken closeness that only bloomed further between them. 

It was also very evident in the paper planes they had continued to send between each other. Keith would send Mick mediocre poetry, and the former would be nothing but appreciative. Mick would only send back prettier art. There was an instance where he had made a simple painting of Keith and wrote down a plain, but meaningful, "love you," on the bottom of the letter. Maybe it made Keith flustered, but anyone else would react the same way. It was sweet, maybe too sweet, that two male friends were that close, at least if others were to observe their friendship.

Anita didn't know. Brian didn't know. Neither did their roommates, friends, or Ronnie; well, Ronnie did suspect something after he had seen Keith and Mick far too many times in the record store together, but he never was bothered by it. Keith already knew why he was unable to properly bring along Mick with his friend group; he loved the boy, really, but not more than his reputation. Keith had already told Anita several times about Mick, but his words rang hollow to the girl. Brian simply saw it as a simple friendship on his side. He was still unaware of how close Mick and Keith had gotten. It wasn't his main concern, though.

A new day had started, about two days after Mick had come out to Keith. The latter heard nothing from Anita during that short amount of time. Mick noticed that Brian was occupied in his thoughts most of the time, especially during lunch.

If only Keith had known what Brian had called Anita for.

During class, Mick was sat near the back of the classroom. Brian was at the desk beside him, clearly close to dozing off. Mick wasn't focused on Brian, or whether or not he would end up sleeping and how he'd have to wake him up after, but rather, on Keith from across the room. The absence of the teacher and the lack of the rest of his classmates gave Mick a good opportunity to truly get a "good look" at Keith. 

He felt frustrated; he felt frustrated at what he was feeling, how he stared at Keith longer than necessary, how handsome Keith was. What Mick was feeling was the equivalent to a stupid in love schoolgirl who just so happened to be obsessed with the bad boy of the school; which, was dumb, it was immature and was far too cliché for his tastes. Keith would make eye contact every now and then if he wasn't talking to his other friends, and Mick's heart would be racing as he'd offer lighthearted smiles in return. After a few moments of longing gazing, Mick heard a small yawn from beside him as he turned to see Brian rise from his nap.

As soon as he did, Mick directed his head back into the book on his desk. Mick could barely see Brian brush away his golden fringe as his blue eyes peered over at his. 

"You didn't wake me up," Brian said, his voice groggy.

Mick looked up at him. "The teacher's not here."

"Alright," Brian's head turned to face the front of the classroom, and Mick was surprised to hear a scoff come from him. "I hate that fuckin' guy."

Mick looked up only barely, as if to counter the idea that Brian was talking about Keith. Unfortunately, the blond's eyes were glued on him. Mick could plainly hear Brian's disgust towards Keith, which, wasn't a problem in hindsight, but he instead found himself a bit irritated at how Brian was eyeing Keith. 

Mick frowned. "What's the problem?"

"Shit," Brian chuckled, his eyes wide as he looked at Mick. "I haven't told you yet, haven't I?"

"What have you not told me?" Mick asked once more, a bit impatient.

Brian hushed Mick back into silence. "You won't believe this. Keith cheated on Anita,"

Silence. "And how do you know this?"

"Mick, I saw him sneak off to the back of the school with someone! I know he's shagging another girl while she's not looking. He's grown bored of her,"

Mick felt his stomach drop. He knew Keith was dating Anita, and he knew Keith wouldn't have even dared to think about wanting him back, but it still felt like a punch to the chest. He still observed Brian with a skeptical gaze. "I don't believe you."

"I saw it with my own eyes!" He hissed back. "I called Anita, I told her everything. She was bawling her fuckin' eyes out. She said she knew something was going on, but she isn't completely convinced and wants me to make sure it's true," 

What disturbed Mick was how excited Brian was about it. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his eyes glimmering each time he said Anita's name. Mick wished he could've reacted just as enthusiastically. He wasn't on the verge of crying his eyes out, nor did he wish to punch Keith in the stomach. He felt – disappointed. He had hoped that by spending time with Keith, the latter would've disregarded doing dumb shit of the sort. He wasn't expecting to hear such a chain of words tumble from Brian's mouth.

In the end, it wasn't Mick's business. He could cry a river for Keith, but they were never dating to begin with, and he knew Keith wouldn't reciprocate the same feelings Mick had for him. Mick decided he'd ask Keith about it later.

"Where's Anita?" Mick asked Brian.

"She skipped today, she was really upset," Brian pushed the thought aside almost instantly. "Mick; don't you realize what's in this for me?"

Mick didn't reply.

Brian sighed dreamily. "She's going to dump that fucking guy. She'll come back to me on her knees, man, pleading and everything."

Mick made a face and turned away once Brian made eye contact once more. Mick figured that he'd start right then and there to lose feelings for Keith. To disregard of them completely. Well, perhaps only a bit, he wasn't sure if what Brian said was factual, but he wasn't going to take any chances. 

'What the hell am I thinking,' Mick cursed at himself. Take any chances? What was that supposed to mean? Perhaps Mick didn't want to feel the devastation if Keith did turn out to be a cheating scumbag. And he was such a pretty one, too. A very attractive bloke, a guy with good music taste, which was so rare that it frustrated Mick further. Mick felt ashamed at how fast he had fallen for the king of the pack, the supposed, "feared" boy of the entire campus. He had to keep his guard up and remember why he was sweetening up to Keith in the first place. 

Mick wanted to punch Keith's teeth out then kiss him right afterwards. That's what he'd get for making Mick fall for him.

During lunch, Keith found Mick isolated behind his usual perch at the tree. He purposefully split off from his group and took an abrupt turn in hopes of seeing Mick's vibrant smile as he waved at him. Instead, Keith was met with a short glance and a halfhearted smile.

"Hi. You alright?" Keith offered a wave as he sat down on the dew stained grass next to Mick.

Mick scooted away only slightly in response. "I heard you cheated on Anita,"

It wasn't meant to be addressed so abruptly, but it did manage to catch Keith's attention. The former recoiled and made a face as an immediate reaction. "Wait– what?"

"I said," Mick repeated. "I heard you cheated on Anita. I mean, it's not my business but really, man? That was uncalled for. Poor girl."

Keith shook his head hastily and furrowed his eyebrows in genuine confusion. "I– I never cheated on her? Please don't tell me she's been going around and spreading shit,"

"A yellow bird told me," Mick replied nonchalantly. 

"Mick, I'm serious, I didn't go off and shag another. We had a fight, she pounced at me and I've been waiting to get a chance to talk to her, for fuck's sake-"

Mick could see something – off, as he searched Keith's face. "You- you didn't actually cheat?"

Keith shook his head once more, in clear desperation. "I'm sure. Rumors spread all the time,"

Mick was willing to believe the boy. A wave of relief washed over him. Perhaps he wasn't a scum of the Earth cheater after all. And perhaps Brian was misinformed. There was no need to fume over it anymore. "Alright then."

A long, tense silence rested between them after that as Mick stared off into the distance, feeling Keith's presence beside him. Mick couldn't be mad at Keith for something he couldn't control. Mick couldn't be frustrated at Keith for something he decided to be involved with in the first place. He couldn't be angry at Keith simply because he had made him fall a bit harder than anticipated.

Mick pressed up against Keith's side – there weren't any students who usually went near the gates during lunch, so they were safe, of course; and he buried his head against the crook of Keith's neck. The former sighed almost contentedly and placed a hand on Mick's knee, as if to ground him in that specific position. Mick, with another plan, blew a bit at the exposed skin there, and felt Keith tense up. Mick lifted his head up and gazed back at the other boy with a lazy smile.

"Well then; how are you, love?"

Keith shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "Could be better. I mean, you know, considering how my own girl's been spreading lies."

Mick motioned Keith towards him. "C'mere,"

"What–"

"I said, come here."

Keith reluctantly looked at Mick's outstretched arms, and ended up resting his head against Mick's chest. The latter's arm dangled at Keith's torso, and his other hand moved loosely through Keith's unruly mane of hair. Keith gradually felt his head sink down to Mick's lap, and he laid down against the wet grass just to take a better look at the other boy. His blue eyes were dazzling a lot more than they usually would; they captivated Keith so much he felt slightly intimidated under Mick's gentle gaze. Mick hummed something, a tune that Keith had heard but wasn't completely familiar with.

"You wanna come by the store after school?" Mick asked, his voice low and gentle as he played with Keith's hair.

"Yeah," Keith replied, although he sounded caught up with something. "Yeah, sure."

Keith wasn't sure what he was supposed to make out of the smile that Mick looked down at him with. It was unusually sincere, something different than what his usual smiles would imply. The moment was tender and quiet between them, and things seemed to slip from their minds momentarily, even if it was a few mere seconds in actuality. Keith hated letting his guard down, but Mick couldn't be more open.

"Get the door, for chrissakes, who the hell could that be–"

Mick sighed upon hearing Ronnie's muttered words, and started for the doorknob that rattled under the hand of whoever was outside. Mick didn't have to double check, nor peer out the windows just to make sure it wasn't just another impatient customer who couldn't seem to grasp the idea of a delayed opening. Instead, Keith stood at the doorway, a cheeky grin slapped upon his face as Mick eyed him up and down, as if scanning him first to see if he was worthy of entry.

"Hello good sir, unfortunately we aren't ready to open up, yet," Mick teased, as he glared at Keith's seemingly hastily put together outfit. "Darling, what on Earth are you wearing?"

Keith snorted. "What? I look good, c'mon, say it."

Mick shook his head. "I ought to dress you up sometime. You won't get anywhere with a wrinkled top."

"Have you seen how fucking tight these trousers are? How I had to put them on, too?" Keith deadpanned, as his gaze shot down to his own pair of pants then back at Mick. "C'mon. Don't be so brutal."

Mick's face went red. "Yes. Yes'sir. A very handsome boy indeed," Mick surrendered, a bit flustered once he did look down to see that, indeed, Keith's trousers were far too tight for comfort. "Get your ass in here."

Keith smiled at the boy's response and sauntered inside, his grin only spreading wider when he saw Ronnie. "I thought this cat was supposed to be on the road?"

Ronnie didn't have to look up to make sure it was Keith even before he began talking. He sighed. "One of the bandmates got sick, put us on delay."

Keith scoffed. "Surprised it wasn't you who got sick."

Ronnie crossed his arms and finally turned to face Keith. "Are you telling me I have the immunity of a fragile child, you fool?"

The pair burst into laughter shortly after that, and Mick walked between them, motioning to Keith first. "Aren't you two funny. Could you help me put away a crate or two, babe?" 

Ronnie glanced up to see Keith scurry away obediently by Mick's words. "What? Are we giving each other pet names now?" He chuckled, clearly amused.

"What's it to you, Ron?" Mick asked, an eyebrow raised as Keith hauled off a crate to the side.

"I strangely feel like a third wheel, is all."

Ronnie got up to leave after that, not in a fit, of course, he simply had to attend to a gig. He left Mick and Keith to wander around the store, putting away records in their respective spots as they shot glances between each other every now and then. Keith felt surprisingly overworked after finishing just one crate, but Mick continued to work diligently, moving to his second one.

"What's a pretty boy like you even doing here?" Keith asked out of the blue, one aisle seperated from Mick. 

Mick's felt his face grow hot. "I'm getting paid pretty damn good, if that's what you're asking."

"Come on," Keith quipped, clearly more outgoing seeing as how he was comfortable enough and how they were the only ones in the store. "There's a new pub downtown."

"And?"

"And," Keith repeated, peering through the shelves to see Mick smiling to himself. "Let me take you out, yeah?"

"Is this a date?" Mick asked, clearly poking at Keith's request.

"Perhaps."

"I'll have you know I don't drink very much unless it's a special occasion,"

"I'd consider this a special occasion. At least two glasses." Keith coaxed, his voice flowing over the aisle.

Mick eyed Keith through the cracks of the shelves that bordered them away from each other. "Ronnie's going to be real mad if he knew I've been clocking out early for you,"

Keith didn't respond.

"Damn, just let me put these away first."

At least that was one thing good about their bond, how they could mingle with words not even spoken. Mick was convinced Keith was his soulmate, in a way. Of course jokingly, he didn't want to set his hopes too high for a clearly straight bloke. Or so, Mick thought.

The pub was indeed new as Keith had said, because upon their arrival, they were met with a few construction workers observing the establishment, as if checking in to make sure the building was intact. Mick had to withdraw from holding Keith's arm as soon as one of the workers threw an odd glance towards them.

Mick could recall Brian telling him about it not too long ago, and he had to admit, it was quite a pub. As the two of them entered, dimmed lights were washed around the atmosphere, and the interior was cozy and somewhat rustic. There were only a few people scattered here and there, an ideal amount. The wafting scent of new wood and alcohol mingled with both Mick and Keith's senses as they took a seat at the counter.

"You'll carry me home, won't you?" Keith joked right after he ordered them two pints of beer. 

Their beverages were delivered rather quickly, and Mick watched the liquid glisten under the warm lights. "I don't think I have a choice."

Keith scoffed. "I'm sure it's not that strong, anyway. This is what I call affordable, shit quality alcohol, baby."

With that, Keith took a brave swig of his pint but was quick to slam it back onto the wooden counter. Mick gazed on, his chin rested upon the palm of his hand as he leaned against the glossy counter. "You alright?"

"I thought affordable, shit quality alcohol was weak."

Mick took a generous sip of his own drink and shook his head, as if to disagree. "It isn't that strong. Which pubs do you go to?"

"I, uh," Keith traced his finger along the counter, thinking. "I just take whatever my mates steal from the store."

"You poor thing."

Keith had managed to finish his drink shortly afterwards and called for another pint, to Mick's surprise. To him, Keith's unpredictability was rather attractive. Mick licked his lips and started with small gulps and gradually downed his glass in a few minutes. Although Keith was still occupied with his own drink, he ordered Mick another pint and clinked their glasses together.

Keith chuckled lightly. "Cheers,"

"How much exactly are you going to take?" Mick asked right after Keith took his first gulp.

"As much as I can."

Mick looked off to the side thoughtfully and raised his beverage to his lips. The warm alcohol barely grazed upon his upper lip as he downed about half of the pint. Keith rejoiced quietly in an attempt to humor the other, and eventually directed his attention back to his drink. Other than drinking and Keith ordering pint after pint, they talked casually over their drinks. Keith was especially hyper for whatever reason, and all Mick could do was to listen and admire the boy's facial features. Keith could notice Mick leaning in every now and then whenever he turned to take a swig of beer, but otherwise paid not much attention to it. 

Keith; still swimming in his feelings and whatnot wasn't sure how to pinpoint the emotion he felt whenever he was near Mick. Perhaps he felt safer near the other, a bit more at peace. He could properly be himself without getting a fair serve of joking insults that still managed to eat through to him. 

Keith's train of thoughts fizzled into a warmer, fuzzy feeling once he had gotten onto his fourth or fifth glass. In reality, the alcohol was actually quite strong, and Keith could just barely feel a slight buzz simmer in. Mick had been gazing at him for most of the time, and had only finished half of his second drink. Keith prayed he had good alcohol tolerance. He didn't want to end up embarrassing himself in front of Mick, really, but the alcohol was far more tempting than he anticipated. He managed to hold things down a bit until he ordered another pint. 

The evening had barely started settling in, and an array of dark tones scattered throughout the skies outside. Mick was a bit antsy, but otherwise tried to continue to talk to Keith – Keith, who was quite clearly inebriated. Mick wasn't sure how many Keith had, nor did Keith, but it was clearly a concerning amount as the boy was visibly sluggish. It wasn't near the amount that was truly hazardous, but nonetheless, it still made its impact on Keith. The latter gulped down the last ounce of alcohol in his glass, and slumped his head down against the counter. That's when Mick decided it was enough. 

"Keith?" Mick cooed, his voice gentle as he shook the boy by his shoulder. "Keith, baby, come on, let's go."

There wasn't a response, but thankfully, Keith wasn't knocked out. He stared off into the distance emptily, and his back heaved up and down slowly. 

Mick wasn't much of a drinker, really, so he never had that many experiences of having to haul a mate out of the pub since he never was usually present anyway. It was strange seeing Keith look out of it. Actually, Mick almost despised it, how unresponsive and drowsy he was. Keith mumbled something, and Mick sighed.

Mick took initiative after a few minutes and tried to stand Keith up. The former lifted his head and nodded slowly, before he slid off his stool. Mick got up from his own, and Keith straightened up; or, at least, tried to.

"What– what time is it?" Keith slurred, still standing up straight until he had to hold onto Mick's arm for proper balance.

Mick swiftly moved Keith's arm around his shoulders, and he wrapped his own arm around the drunk boy's waist. "I dunno. Let me take you home, alright?"

Before Keith could attempt to respond, Mick began dragging him off. It was enough of a challenge to actually get Keith to the door and outside; apparently, Keith responded sleepily to drunkenness, and also the slightest bit confused.

Keith wasn't at the brink of falling over and completely losing his balance, but he appeared to be quite close to doing so. He was tipsy, yes, but nothing Mick couldn't handle. He was slow and patient with Keith and didn't attempt to rush the boy in getting to their place immediately. 

"Are we–" Keith piped up, obviously groggy. "Are we almost there?"

Mick looked up after what seemed like an eternity of looking down and watching brick by brick pass by from underneath. Indeed they were, only a few more houses left to pass.

"Yeah, hang in there," Mick murmured, loud enough for Keith to hear. "Do you wanna stay at my place? I'd feel bad if I were to dump you off outside your door."

Keith nodded wearily, his movements languid as he brushed up against Mick, as if to get a bit of warmth. The former responded in a split second as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Keith's shoulders. The gesture didn't matter much in the end, as they had already reached the stairs of Mick's building. It certainly did make Keith feel protected, though, even if it was only brief.

Abruptly, Keith started laughing about something, and Mick, unsure of how to react, moved him away and into the alleyway just between their flats. He pressed Keith up against the brick wall as the latter's head drooped down only slightly.

"Keith? You alright?"

Keith didn't reply. Mick wished he could've slapped him, perhaps that would've snapped the boy back into his senses. Before he could do so, he was caught off guard by Keith's hand just barely tracing against his chest. Mick felt his breath lodge up in his throat as Keith's gentle fingers grazed upon his neck. Mick wasn't sure what the boy was trying to play at, but he wasn't necessarily planning to stop whatever it was. He glanced down at Keith's lips. Keith leaned up against Mick once his hand made contact with the boy's face. Mick was unable to speak, nor process the situation. He stared blankly at Keith, his eyes wide and his breathing rapid. 

Keith leaned in and ended up kissing Mick's cheek instead. Mick blinked twice. His face red, he peeled Keith off before he could attempt to do anything else.

"Keith. You're drunk," Mick said firmly, attempting to coax the other out of his clouded senses.

It was amazing how well Mick was able to manage the situation. He applauded himself for not fainting right then and there. After all, the bloke he had just so happened to fall for kissed his cheek, only, while he was drunk, so – it didn't end up mattering anyway. Keith mumbled something once more and reached out to cling onto Mick. The latter held onto Keith simultaneously, and he proceeded their trek away from the alleyway and up the stairs. Mick tried his best to not think about what had happened as he hauled his drunken friend along the empty hallways. Sure, it was strange and definitely not something he would've expected, but it couldn't be helped anyway. Keith was in an intoxicated state, and Mick had to remind himself of that.

The overwhelming tension and jumbled thoughts washed away once Mick had successfully brought Keith along to his room. Mick knocked reluctantly, and prayed Charlie wouldn't care about the drunk bloke he had practically wrapped around him. He could hear rustling and footsteps from inside, and was soon met with Charlie hiding behind the slightly inched open door.

"What the fuck." Charlie said, his voice dull.

Mick sighed. "Spare me."

And so, Charlie did, because he loved Mick. The latter entered slowly, and Keith lagged behind. Charlie couldn't do much except to stay at the side and gape as Mick dragged Keith inside. 

"Why is Keith Richards inside our flat? And why on Earth is he drunk?" Charlie hissed, poking at the almost lifeless Keith.

Mick pulled Keith away from Charlie almost protectively. "He's staying the night. He had a pint too many, spare the guy, yeah?"

It wasn't that Charlie cared, because he really didn't. But anyone else would've reacted just the same way. Months of getting picked on by a specific guy, and suddenly that specific guy was inside his kitchen, under the influence and whatnot. Yes, it couldn't get any better.

"Well, he's not sleeping on the sofa, I'll have you know you left a mess of clothes there before you left to do God knows what." Charlie said.

Mick steadily began dragging Keith towards the couch regardless. The latter followed behind, his gaze fixated on the floor. "It's better than nothing."

"Mick–" Keith tugged at the boy's helping arm to stop him in his tracks. "Can we,, can I sleep in your room?"

Mick blinked. "I.. I suppose so. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Yeah. Yeah, alright."

The route took a turn to the bedroom, and Charlie followed behind cautiously. "I'm not taking the sofa for him, Mick."

"That's alright, he can squeeze in with me." Mick reassured him.

He wasn't complaining about it either. It was just like when he slept over at Keith's, and that time he did, it was rather pleasant. Charlie seemed content with Mick's decision. Keith just seemed unable to respond coherently.

As soon as they gathered into the bedroom and Charlie flicked off the light, Mick lowered Keith upon the soft mattress gently, as if to not startle the boy. The bed wasn't fitting for a capacity of two bodies, but it could be done as long as both were alright with being a little bit closer for comfort. Mick took off his jacket from Keith's shoulders instantaneously, and pulled off his own top before sliding into the cramped space beside Keith. It was completely pitch black, and Mick could hear Charlie settle into bed across, the mattress squeaking. Keith had suddenly reached out blindly, and slung an arm around Mick's waist gently. He huffed and snuggled into the thin blankets around him, and Mick couldn't do much except to remain unresponsive. 

Best mates do this all the time, Mick thought, but feeling Keith's light touches and barely seeing the boy's relaxed face through the blanket of darkness made Mick feel fuzzy. Maybe not a common feeling, but it was normal. This didn't happen at Keith's flat. It only happened then because Keith was drunk, that's it, Mick thought –

Though, it wouldn't hurt to hold him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew baby boy. i wanted to finish this chapter b4 sleeping, im goin 2 drop off textbooks in the morning and i didnt want to delay any longer :-) also!! mick is 19 and keith is 18!! so yes, alcohol. 
> 
> i think im going to seriously start adding in drama behind the scenes while mick and keith are just obliviously pining for one another + tension bla bla bla. i WAS originally going to start the real angst here but i wanted to build it slowly and show how unaware mick n keef are but also how one's already fallen and the other's still kinda thinking abt it.
> 
> anita might not seem like the biggest threat right now, but she'll make her mark later on 😌


	11. Let It Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mick runs into trouble. keith makes a promise to mick.

Keith was the first to wake up at the single strike of sunshine that spread across his face. There was a throbbing sensation that thumped against his skull accompanied by a dry taste in his mouth that left him to settle there, basking in the sun. He was waiting for something, waited to hear the reassuring snoring that would usually come from Bill's side of the bedroom. He grasped blindly at the sheets, only for his hand to make contact with the body that was wrapped around him loosely. 

There was a brief moment in which Keith's heart stopped, as upon further examination over the skin (their face was buried underneath the sheets), he noticed it didn't have the same distinguishable curves or smoothness as Anita's skin. It was quickly replaced with a sense of relief when he remembered last night. The alcohol that Keith had guzzled down then had still made its effect, but the urge to wash the fatigue down was his primary focus. He glanced down to see Mick's auburn head of hair propped up against his chest, almost nuzzled up. It was strange, but rather comforting to see Mick under a deep slumber, so peaceful. Keith had to pry his eyes away from him. All he could do afterwards was to peel Mick off and slip out of the thin, white bed sheets.

Keith tried his best to recall and gather the events that had played out the night before. Yes, he was drunk, he knew that, but when and how did he end up sleeping in Mick's bed? He glanced warily at Charlie who was also knocked out in his own bed. Clearly, he wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be hurling his guts out in his own restroom, and Bill should've been yelling at him for getting drunk on a school night. At least he woke up early. He could make a head start back to his flat and head to class as if nothing had happened. The sound of bed sheets rustling and a yawn had easily foiled Keith's plans of escaping right then and there, though.

"Keith?"

Usually, he would've gotten tired of hearing his name as the first to be called out, but with Mick, it was different. Keith had turned to face Mick who was sitting upright, sheets pulled up to cover his exposed torso. Keith smiled bashfully, the sight rather tantalizing. 

"Morning. I was just getting ready to leave."

A lazy smile spread across Mick's face. "Why so soon?"

"I've kept you occupied enough, haven't I?" Keith smiled back, sickeningly sweet.

Mick shook his head, amused. "Come back to bed."

The statement was rather tempting to Keith, but he resisted against Mick's gentle gaze. Hell, his face heated up at the mere statement. "I can put on some tea, if you'd like," Keith offered instead, and Mick gave a quick nod, allowing Keith to slink off into the kitchen.

Mick had fallen back asleep by the time Keith had finished preparing and pouring the tea, and had only woken up after the other left the flat. Mick was disappointed upon not hearing Keith after he had called for him, but was pleasantly delighted to see a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him.

The walk to school wasn't anything out of the ordinary, though, there was an eeriness that lingered near Keith upon not having Mick with him. Keith felt an indescribable yearning to have the boy next to him, to feel the warmth of his arm pull his own close, as if the excessive closeness was absolutely necessary. He couldn't tell if he was truly in love with Mick or if he'd felt too neglected by a certain blond bird. Perhaps that was the case, and Keith kept desperately trying to assure himself that he only craved for such contact since he sure wasn't getting any from his own girlfriend. Mick had already struck something within, and it ignited into a flaming longing amongst the ashes. Keith hated his vulnerability. He hated how he dared to even think about Mick, desiring the boy's presence and the terrifyingly sweet smiles and gestures he'd exchange with him.

Keith decided that, in order to pry him from thinking any further thoughts or feeling any emotions for Mick, he'd talk to Anita and finally get things sorted out. He figured that as long as Anita would be okay and he'd apologize, things would be better. Well, better until Anita would find something else to pin on Keith. She was usually like that, yes, but Keith couldn't object to it.

How they began dating was something Keith wouldn't usually brush upon. Word had passed around that Brian had messed around with another girl and left Anita to cry and leech onto Keith; who, at the time, was Brian's best friend, not just a customer. They had said that Brian was drunk, some said that they were rumors, but Anita had already moved on with Keith and Brian couldn't do much about it. Both Brian and Keith had a brief period of silent treatment, especially from Brian, but would really only end up talking when Keith needed to get his mind off things.

Sometimes, Keith wished Brian could've kept Anita instead.

About a week into their relationship, Keith couldn't pinpoint any bumpy occurrence that stood off as wrong to him. It really only began when he began talking to Anita's other friends and when he had to do basic, daily things instead of paying constant attention to her 24/7. Anita would keep tabs on him, would call him out whenever he arrived late to a date night, would control who he talked to and where he'd choose to go. She would fume over the smallest mistakes that Keith couldn't prevent, then would blame every single outburst on him. When it had gotten unbearable for Keith, she'd lure him back into a sense of fear – that if Keith decided to even think of leaving, he'd be nothing without her.

Yeah, Keith noticed it. He saw the signs. But not once did he ever acknowledge any of it.

"He's always like this."

Brian nodded in semi-genuine sympathy, a comforting hand placed barely against Anita's shoulder. She wouldn't stop sobbing. Brian would've offered a hug, but he was taking baby steps.

"Anita, he owes you an apology. There's no way that fucking prick's gonna get away with this again." Brian replied, attempting to side with Anita.

Anita wiped her tears against her coat's sleeve and stiffened up abruptly afterwards. "I know he does. But he barely thinks about me, I'm sure of it. 

The words rang hollow in Brian's ears. He was mainly focused on getting Anita to put some sort of trust in him; to get her to see him in a different light, and to possibly get rid of Keith on the side as well. Too bad for him. As long as Brian would stay consistent and the rumors would spread quicker, he could prepare to see Anita crawl back to him and leave Keith without another glance back. 

Throughout the day, and through the seemingly endless stream of classes, both Mick and Keith had drawn their attention to each other rather than the chalkboard. Mick tried his best to not react to the crumpled up notes that Keith would leave on his desk. Amidst his desperation to stay focused on his work, he found himself writing notes back to the other boy, a childish feeling that caused his heart to pump faster. Keith had felt nothing but abrupt surges of energy and an indescribable feeling of delight when he'd see Mick respond, or even to see the other boy engage in any way possible. It was as cliché as any high school sweethearts plot would go, only, one was strictly "heterosexual" with a problematic girl, and the other was a raging bisexual with conflicted emotions. Not the most expected fusion, but the pair made it work.

Brian, who was usually far off somewhere else in the room, spied on curiously from Anita's request. He didn't really think much of seeing Mick and Keith interacting, but rather, focused on every one of Keith's movements, as if he was ready to pounce at the slightest mistake. If he could back up the rumors with proof, it'd be over for Keith. 

Brian even carried on during lunch, and had even accompanied Anita during it. If she couldn't see his efforts, there clearly wasn't any other way to make her do so. Brian couldn't settle for that. He'd do anything just to get Anita to understand what she had been missing on the entire time. But, he really wouldn't get anywhere with simply seeing Mick and Keith getting along a bit too well from afar.

"You, Keith Richards, are a fucking degenerate," Mick gasped, a laugh following straight after once Keith had stopped with his childish antics.

A wide grin made its way upon Keith's face. Apparently Mick was fairly ticklish, and it was something Keith knew he'd have fun with the moment he heard about it. "What's that about me being a degenerate, now?" He challenged Mick, his fingers posing a threat to the boy's stomach.

"God, fine, I'll show you a few pages."

Keith hummed a victorious tune as Mick reached to the side to grab his sketchbook; just one of the several, of course. It was specifically for human anatomy, something Mick wouldn't usually mind talking or sharing about, but when it came to his own art, it was something else. Keith knew nothing about human anatomy, but he figured the position they were in would make great examples in Mick's sketchbook. 

He was all pressed up against Mick, the both of them clearly not giving one shit about personal space. Mick had one leg propped up and loosely wrapped against Keith's, and one hand settled barely against Keith's calloused fingertips. The latter thanked the tree for offering them a shield from any suspecting glances and any sideways glares. Aside from that, he had to admit, it was a lovely spot to sit at, and even Keith had to agree with Mick whenever the boy said the tree gave him an odd sense of company.

Mick leaned back against Keith's shoulder and opened his small sketchbook in front of the two of them. He flipped quickly through the first few pages, but eventually stopped at a few colored ones. They were smaller sketches, mostly of male anatomy. To Mick, it was atrocious combined with the rushed shading, but Keith couldn't find much of anything negative to think about it when he looked at the drawings.

"You know, I was expecting more.. More enlarged cocks and bulging tits–"

Mick stifled a laugh. "Stop that."

"Don't get so mad, you would've drawn it all out if you were able to." Keith sneered, and Mick reacted with a brief poke to his ribcage.

"All jokes aside, it's actually real good."

"Nah, this was a five-minute thing, it's basically unfinished," Mick insisted, shutting his sketchbook and leaving it on the side.

Keith raised an eyebrow and slung an arm around Mick. "You're being too humble, Picasso."

Mick felt the smallest, barely noticeable urge to kiss Keith. "Shut it, I'm not–"

"Like I said, too humble."

Mick gave in, like usual. He nestled his head against Keith's shoulder and let his eyelids slip shut as the other brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. Neither of them questioned nor acknowledged their intimacy. There wasn't a need for doing so. Yes, perhaps Mick was in love with Keith, Keith as in the boy who looked down on every student in school, the boy who everyone was supposed to fear. And perhaps Keith felt something for Mick that he couldn't bring himself to admit. It was bizarre how they made it to were they were in their relationship, but it was even more so unfamiliar to Keith, who had to battle the persisting emotions he found himself to have for Mick.

"I wonder if I should talk to Anita," Keith mused as the other boy craned his head up to look at him better.

"I don't see why not."

"I suppose so," Keith shook his head. "She'd probably run off again. Like she usually does."

Mick cocked his head to the side. "Does she always do that? I mean, I reckon she doesn't believe the rumors."

"She either does or doesn't. That's not it, though, I'm just.. I'm talking about how she usually reacts to this stuff in general." Keith responded blankly, an empty stare on the patch of grass in front of them.

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever had someone who's gotten riled up over the smallest things that even you couldn't prevent?"

Mick shrugged. "I have. Cut them off quickly."

"Cut– cut them off?" Keith repeated, as if the term was foreign to him. It appeared as a red flag to Mick.

"Yeah... Of course. I'd consider them one-sided, you know? Those type of relationships don't usually function well, I found that out easily. You don't– you do know that?"

"It's not one-sided," Keith pressed on slightly.

Mick leaned back. "Are you allowed to do what you want to without getting yelled at for no reason?"

"Mick, what–"

"Do you feel comfortable talking to other girls with her around?"

"I don't get it–"

"Does she let you-" Mick paused to take a good look at Keith. "Does she let you do things you enjoy doing without blaming every single inconvenience or outburst on you?"

Keith stood up abruptly and squinted at Mick, as if he was desperately trying to figure the other out. "Shut the fuck up–" he stammered; he couldn't comprehend it all at once. 

Mick frowned, bittersweet as ever. "Are you happy, Keith?"

There was no response. There was only a brief exchange of glances between them to fill the gap. Keith didn't want to hear Mick, but he didn't necessarily want to leave, either. 

"I dunno," Keith mumbled, as plainly as ever, and Mick couldn't do much except to conclude their exchange with a heavy sigh. 

Nothing much else happened after that, and lunch passed by quicker than expected for both of them. Keith did manage to catch a glimpse of Anita at a bench, but upon making his way over, her friends had swarmed around like flies to sugar; it drove Keith back. He felt an unspoken guilt in his gut when he backed off only to see Anita break down in tears once more. It made him further blame everything on himself – everything? 

What was "everything?" How long did he have to keep on blaming shit he wasn't involved in on himself? He wasn't sure, but there wasn't much room for him to care at that point. If Keith could let the tension between him and Anita simmer before he actually approached her, he figured things would get back to normal. Unless, of course, the lies and rumors spread further; which, they were, only the effects seemed to make more of an impact.

"Behind the school like usual?"

Keith looked up to see Mick beside him, an umbrella suddenly shielding the two of them from the steady drizzle. Keith smiled. "I might just go home, I think I should ring up Anita,"

"Good," Mick nodded in clear understanding. "Take the brolly, then."

"Wouldn't want you to catch a cold. I can walk you home." Keith replied, casting his gaze back to the opened gate with the scattered crowd of students passing through.

Mick made a face. "I'm no kid. I need to get my sketchbook. Might stay a bit just to draw out something,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Keith," the blue-eyed boy responded, in slight exasperation. "Are you gonna take the umbrella or keep us standing here?"

Keith reluctantly took Mick's umbrella, grasping the warmth where the former's hand used to be. Mick insisted that the boy go before the rain got any harder, so Keith left with a small smile and a wave. Mick heard him offer something about paper planes later on, but he was quick to rush back into the school afterwards. A few students had just gotten out by then, so Mick hurried past the entrance before the school was completely emptied out. 

The entire building reeked of a musty odor, most likely due to the shitty, old structure and how the rain was slowly making its effect on it – Mick scrunched up his face in disgust when he entered, and even further did so when he smelled smoke just around the corner. The group of Keith's friends, who apparently did not understand the idea of dismissal, stood off to the corner. A threatening aura surrounded the area as Mick tried to ignore them, coming face to face with his locker. In his peripheral, they were faced to the window at first, all occupied with whispering things to the other beside them. Probably hitting on birds, Mick thought; as long as he could grab his sketchbook and leave, he'd be fine.

A flurry of whispers and chuckles accompanied with the stench of cigarette smoke floated past Mick as he hurried off with his sketchbook at last. It was a close encounter, yes, but he assured himself he wouldn't run into them again. Such a thought was immediately pushed to the side, though. As Mick approached the exit, the heart dropping combination of heels clicking against cold tile floors and hushed voices kept him paranoid. He scurried to the exit, hoping they'd leave him be. Which, they did, only for a brief second as Mick started down the stairs outside.

"Hey, you,"

Mick didn't turn around. He made a sharp turn to the left, hoping the detour would throw off the boys behind him.

"We saw you talking to Keith," Mick heard, the voice deeper than the first one. "What don't you understand by 'piss off,' cunt?"

Mick sped up the pace, praying they'd get bored and get off his tail. The rain only increased above him, rebuffing Mick's attempts at running off completely. The sloshing of mud beneath his shoes caught him off guard as the grip on his sketchbook and bag tightened. Raindrops clouded his view.

"Hey, fag! Turn around," another snarled, so Mick complied.

Standing pathetically in the rain, desperately trying to keep his sketchbook dry, Mick turned to face the four boys gathered behind him. They weren't as close as Mick thought, which was a relief, but the threats and words that spewed from their mouths proved otherwise. 

"How many times do we have to tell you to fuck off? Stop being such a bother and just get outta here."

Mick turned his gaze to the ground. If he were to come up with a cocky response, he knew he'd end up tasting the mud below him. The anger that had burnt out suddenly reignited within him as he tried his best not to give the boys the satisfaction they craved; any signs of possible vulnerability or fear.

"Hand over the sketchbook." One chimed in, and the rest agreed quietly.

"No–"

"Hand it over or you're fucking dead."

Mick didn't respond. Slightly trembling, he held the sketchbook out, and one of the quieter boys with long, blond hair made his way over and tossed the sketchbook back to the tallest one. The blond made quick eye contact with Mick once; the latter could sense a bit of hesitance in his gesture, but didn't dare question it. Mick could see him carrying a camera, holding it close to his chest, just like what Mick would do with his own sketchbooks. Well, his sketchbook would be safe and sound all pressed up against his chest, but instead it was perched within the harsh grasp of a boy he didn't know.

The tallest one proceeded with whatever they planned to do as he flipped through the pages. Mick swallowed his fear down. The other three that had gathered behind the tallest chuckled in amusement, as if to mock Mick's drawings.

"What the hell is this?"

"Anatomy," Mick cleared his throat. "It's for anatomy practice."

The tallest boy raised an eyebrow. "You drew all this, didn't you?"

"Yeah. It's for my art class." Mick responded firmly, though his voice was laced with uncertain vulnerability. 

Without warning, the boy took one page and ripped it out. Upon hearing the first tear, Mick winced and glanced up fast.

"It'd be a shame if you went back to your stupid art class empty-handed." He sneered, dropping the page carelessly into the mud.

Whatever this was; it was torture for Mick. He had to endure seeing page by page of his work torn out and disregarded to the ground as if it were nothing. He watched the crumpled shells of what used to be his sketchbook pages get drenched by the wet mud. Not only were the pages getting wrecked by the rain, but so was he. He felt stupid. He felt stupid for deciding to go back inside the school. With every raindrop that fell against his crown of auburn hair, he felt pathetic. His blue eyes darted between the scenario playing in front of him to somewhere completely different, as if to ignore what was unfolding. The sound of pages being teared stopped momentarily only to continue once more, driving Mick insane.

"Stop."

The tearing and rips paused abruptly. The entirety of the group in front of Mick raised their heads slowly. 

"What was that, queer?"

"Please, stop."

It was funny how Mick thought his trembling and a couple of words would make the boys pity him. He found it amusing how he thought he'd be able to get out of the situation instantly. But instead, he was met with a harsh punch to the jaw, sending him toppling back almost immediately. The punch emitted a low groan from Mick, but it was only the start. A flurry of hands were thrown. They pulled at Mick, scratched at him, clawed at his clothes. He couldn't comprehend what was happening until he was slammed up against a tree, feeling a few hands gripping at the fabric of his coat.

"Say it again."

Mick chuckled as he felt a nosebleed come on. He couldn't seem to care at that point. "Stop, cunt."

A hiss came after that, and Mick felt another hard punch go to his stomach. Within a few mere seconds, he was on the ground again, with one of the boys hovering above him, sending punch by punch onto his face. Mick sobbed out in pain as he felt another blow to his stomach. 

Pain accompanied more pain each time Mick felt a fist collide with his body. He could barely make out the blond boy to the side, who watched on, the glimmer of the camera lens catching Mick's eye. Mick couldn't care less about him. He couldn't care less about that stupid camera. All the focus went directly to each punch that seemed to create a dent each time it made contact with Mick. The pain fizzled into every fiber of his body as he took each punch almost willingly. The rain had only gotten heavier as soon as two of the boys began kicking at his ribcage. Mick felt strange. Almost out of breath. He wheezed for them to stop, pleaded, but even he couldn't hear his own voice through the shouts and the rain.

Mick licked his lips, only to find blood on it as well. He groaned until there was nothing left to groan about, except for the excruciating pain that blossomed at each area that was once touched. The boys had suddenly left. What a shame that they didn't bother to help Mick up from the mud. Every inch of his body screamed out in unbearable pain, but all he could do was lie down in the mud pathetically. The slightest movement only made it worse for Mick. Tears streamed down his face, pathetically, of course, as he tried to gain back his composure.

The aftermath of it allowed Mick to relax in the moment. It was almost peaceful; of course, the immense, throbbing pain in his head and limbs lingered, but he tried not to focus on it. Mick rolled to his side only to feel another strike of pain simmer through. He pressed on, collecting the remains of his sketchbook and the pages he hoped he could save. He had to get back to Keith. Wiping the blood that gushed from his nose, he got up and limped for the gate.

"Keith, someone's at the door."

"Who is it?"

Bill flipped him off. "I'm not checking for you."

Keith responded with a sigh as he got up from his perch on the bed, leaving the telephone to the side. He approached the door, still hearing a flurry of knocks come from the other end. Keith didn't bother to look through the peephole at first, which was quite certainly a good thing, or else he would've screamed. Keith certainly wasn't expecting a beat up Mick to appear at his door, but it wasn't his main concern. Sure, he didn't scream, but he did gasp.

"Mick–? Holy fucking shit–" Keith hissed, his eyes wide as he pulled the boy inside.

Mick mumbled something that Keith couldn't hear as he dragged him into the bedroom and locked the door behind them. Keith helped Mick onto the bed and examined the boy in genuine concern. 

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Keith demanded to know.

"Your stupid friends."

Keith cursed to himself then scurried off to the side, digging around in the cabinet of his nightstand. He pulled out a small first aid kit and sat beside Mick. "Come on. Take off your clothes before you catch a cold."

Mick nodded and slipped off his coat, then his vest. Keith helped him with his stained, white button-up when he saw Mick's fingers tremble against the fabric. The wet articles of clothing were tossed to the floor, leaving Mick with his mud-stained trousers and shoes. Keith noticed a few bruises along Mick's chest and back, but pried his eyes away.

"Stay here, alright? I'll fetch a cloth."

Mick nodded obediently as Keith left the room, sparing a glance back. The latter came in almost immediately after retrieving a damp washcloth, a cup of water, and what seemed to be a handful of ice in a separate, thinner cloth.

"Tilt your head up, yeah?" Keith asked, his voice gentle as he stood in front of Mick.

The latter obeyed and craned his head up until he was looking up at Keith who was a bit closer than anticipated. Keith's eyes scanned over Mick's busted lip as he cleaned off the wound with water. Mick winced slightly at the amount of pressure on it.

"Does it hurt?"

Mick nodded. Keith reached for the cloth of ice to the side and passed it to Mick. Without being asked once more, the latter held up the cold cloth against his lip and waited for Keith. The dark-haired boy worked quietly as he wiped off the dried blood that once gushed from Mick's nose. Thankfully, Mick didn't end up with anything too severe like a black eye, but did have some bruising on the side of his head and jaw. The skin that once used to be pale around Mick's right eye was suddenly red and swollen, but otherwise didn't seem too concerning. Keith was clearly disturbed, but tried his best to not act like such by the state the boy was in.

Mick watched Keith's every movement, noticing how the boy was being so gentle in handling his wounds. It felt so strange to Mick, how slow Keith was, how such a wave of relief and peace washed over him whenever Keith tilted his head up by the chin just to look at his bruises better. 

Keith cupped Mick's cheek in the palm of his hand, soft skin against rough, all while applying the cold cloth to the swollen patches of skin. If Mick couldn't feel the throbbing pain that swelled across the red areas on his face, he'd consider the moment as purely therapeutic and almost comforting. It was a tender moment he wished could've lasted longer. Perhaps Mick would consider getting beat up more often.

"I'm sorry," Keith said, his voice low as he caught Mick's attention once more. He held Mick's face in his hands, craned up only slightly to make proper eye contact with the boy. 

Mick rested his chin just below Keith's chest, looking up into those pretty, mahogany pupils. His throat felt dry, no, not from all those strained sobs after being pummeled into the dirt, but rather, for a loss of words. Keith brushed away a few stray locks of auburn hair from Mick's face and leaned down to kiss at a bruise just near his forehead – which, was unexpected, but was not rejected by Mick.

Keith kept the wet cloth on Mick's bruises after that, not uttering a word about his gesture. Mick's heart swelled in his chest and his stomach fluttered in delight just by being in Keith's presence. Though he felt safe with Keith, an unending dread set Mick's mind back to uneasiness. He wondered if he'd get beat again.

"Keith," he piped up, his voice raspy, "they won't hurt me again, will they?"

Keith looked back at the boy all while holding the small first aid kit in his hand as he prepared to treat the wounds properly. He didn't reply at first, but Mick was able to get a response once Keith sat down next to him.

"They won't touch you again, I promise. Not when I'm around."

And maybe those few, simple words were enough to coax Mick's mind back to peace. As long as Keith was there with him, he'd be alright. He hoped Keith would stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh hi bbies just wanted 2 say thank u to those keepin up with the story im having a ton of fun writing all this and im even more excited to write more angst hehe :-)
> 
> i liked the idea of keef helping mick out with his wounds n bruises itsa very soft n tender lil moment before shit really starts getting real ^___^


	12. Almost Hear You Sigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babes !!! alright really quick bc i cant be on here for 2 long (apologies 4 any mistakes or sloppiness in this chapter, ill try to edit it later but i had to post this) super sorry for the delay!!  
> (Possible tw)  
>  i was literally not doing good these past few weeks. i cut off most of my friends and isolated myself from my family, and just recently, i have restrictions put on me and my phone so it was harder to get this chapter out. school's starting up too, and literally the delay was just because of me being in a really bad mental state. i will try to get better, i dont have professional help but im trying regardless. enjoy the chapter <3

Though he would usually deem it an annoyance and a waste of his time, Keith Richards found himself at the peak of all inconveniences; at a loss, he found himself crying.

He sobbed, falling oblivious to the problems that grew around him. Tears had trickled from his glossy eyes and threatened to spill a river. To Keith, it was an unusual feeling. Really, he only remembered crying like that when his father was around. He had felt pathetically vulnerable; he was glad Mick had left before he'd seen him curl up into a heap of a bawling mess onto his bed. Keith remembered seeing Mick's face before the former took his leave; although Mick's facial expression displayed nothing but gratitude and adoration for the other boy, there was the obvious hopeful gleam on his face that Keith absolutely despised. Mick relied on Keith. He just wasn't sure if he'd be able to guarantee that sort of support for Mick, especially in school.

Keith cried for Mick's battered up face. He cried at the idea of seeing Mick pressed up against the cold, wet mud, he cried after imagining the pain of each blow the other felt. Keith cried for Anita. Beautiful Anita, hopeless Anita, always destined to a dead end when it came to a pretty face like hers. Perhaps he deserved this. Overwhelming emotions and past actions that came gnawing at him once more didn't seem like much compared to the years of him pushing around strangers just because he had felt obliged to. 

Keith lied peacefully in bed, an occasional sniffle being the only noise he'd make to remind himself he wasn't asleep. Mick had left about half an hour ago, and Keith couldn't shake the image of his bloody face from his mind. His baby blue eyes, those same ocean blues that could hold a challenging glare and strength at the same time had even then dared to show the slightest bit of regret and hopelessness to Keith. Keith was prepared to set his life on the line for Mick; it wouldn't be a guarantee, though, Keith was terrible at making such promises, but he'd willingly do so for Mick. He grasped at the pillow he'd wrapped his limbs around, itching for an ounce of reassurance.

He was scared for the possibilities. He hated himself for deciding he'd choose himself over Mick in some situations. Keith would try to remind himself of his reputation, whatever that was to him. Was it worth it, anyway? Of course it was. A troubled schoolboy with no clear future; leeching off the attention and the praise he had gotten merely from that built up reputation was enough to remind Keith there was temporary hope. After all, where else was there to go? He could muse about his popularity all he wanted to but it would all come crashing back to Mick.

Keith wondered how it got to that. His hand loosely crumpled up a portion of his bedsheet; it reeked of cheap, crisp detergent and most significantly, Mick. He hoped the boy was alright. Another tear rolled down. 

He wondered if Mick was really into blokes as he claimed to be. Keith was sure he was. He wouldn't say his own past experiencesA few boys he'd encountered in the past tossed around the claim to seem likeable, even if it meant catching a few sideways glares. He wondered if Mick felt the same, whatever "the same" meant.

It was almost restricting, how Keith had to hold in his sobs as to not draw any attention to him. He'd even tried to calm himself down only to break back into a fit of silent and confined cries. After another light trickle of tears, Keith felt encouraged to focus his mind on something else. Keith planned out the day after. First thing in the morning, he decided he'd check in on Mick then talk to Anita during class. It'd be solved, no need to fuss afterwards. He figured he'd sorted out his life right then and there. In a matter of a few seconds, he thought he'd fixed everything. Keith wished it were that easy, and maybe it was. But it'd be even easier for him if he could actually get to Anita and sort things out before she would run off.

At the crack of early dawn, Keith was roused awake almost immediately, as he had remembered his plans. Once he had hastily untangled himself from his bedsheets, and strode across the bedroom to prepare for the day, he disregarded the events from the night before. He yearned to see Mick, hopefully in a more relieving condition; though, of course, he didn't expect to see the bruises or marks gone in a day, Keith still longed to see the boy crack a smile even the slightest bit. It would mask the damage in a way.

While changing into his uniform, Keith took a glance at the cracked mirror that was propped up on his rickety dresser. His eyelids felt heavy as he observed the pale red circles that surrounded his eyes. Keith forced himself to not think much of it. After all, there was Mick – there was always Mick, only this image of Mick was bruised and beaten. He rushed out of the room shortly afterwards, leaving a passed out Bill on the sofa along with any possible thoughts that would've threatened to eat at him for the rest of the day.

The night before, Mick had to return to his flat and explain himself to a fussing Charlie. His roommate couldn't do much except to scan over the marks to make sure they weren't so severe. Charlie ranted off to Mick after an explanation was given, saying how it'd be better to skip classes and avoid being near Keith. Mick couldn't understand it. It was Keith's friends, he knew the boy would prevent them from doing such a thing again. He would, wouldn't he? Mick figured Keith would step in for him, at least, he had hoped so. Charlie wasn't as convinced as Mick had hoped he'd be.

Charlie could hold up an unbothered exterior whenever, but after seeing Mick in such a state, it was enough for him to enforce a motherly type of protectiveness over the boy. Perhaps it was an instinct for him. Maybe it was just Charlie. 

Mick was the first to wake up the morning afterwards, alarmed at first to feel another body's heat radiating onto him, but relieved to see that it was only Charlie who had passed out against his chest. In an attempt to not wake the other, he slinked out of bed quietly and dressed out hastily. Perhaps Keith would be outside waiting for him, Mick excitedly pondered, itching to see the boy's face although it had just been a day. 

After dressing out and snatching a cold biscuit as his breakfast, Mick hurried out and onto the sidewalk. And just like Mick had expected, Keith was waiting by a nearby bench, exuding coolness; or at least, he tried to give off the impression. Immediately upon seeing Mick, he shifted himself to lean against the cold wood, subtly gazing off into the distance as if to not seem preoccupied with the other's presence. Mick offered a smile and Keith snapped his attention towards him, displaying an equally as bright grin.

Mick, as bubbly as ever despite his temporary bruises and marks, sauntered over to Keith, his enthusiastic greeting almost too infectious.

"You look like shit," Keith chuckled. "Really, really hot shit, Mick. You're sure you want to go to class?"

Mick pouted and shoved Keith playfully with his elbow to get him walking. "I'm fine. I'm no mama's boy."

Keith stayed silent after that before he formed a final response. "I'm allowed to be worried about you." 

"You have other things to worry about," Mick pointed out. He lagged behind momentarily before catching up once more, unsure of what else to add. "Like Anita. And your mates."

"Yeah- no, I know that. I just don't know how to say it,"

"Say what?"

Keith paused briefly, gazing at Mick but not quite fully at him. He figured it wouldn't hurt to reply; it wasn't wrong to feel protective over Mick, was it?

"–Mick, I'm just really worried for you. After last night, you know, it's as if I failed in doing something, I could've stayed behind and I could've helped you."

Mick furrowed an eyebrow, slightly irritated but otherwise genuinely surprised Keith actually bothered to care. "It was inevitable, Keith, it's in the past now. The marks are temporary, you know that."

Keith didn't look at him. Mick softened his tone. "I 'preciate you looking out for me, though. I didn't think you actually cared."

"I do care– are you kidding?" Keith stopped suddenly, whipping his gaze back to Mick. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have taken you in last night."

"Okay- shit, alright, sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, I just- why do you think I didn't actually care? Of course I do, Mick. I really do fucking care, this isn't some kind of play." Keith motioned for the other to proceed to walk with him.

"I dunno," Mick murmured. "I just thought it was out of empty pity."

"It wasn't empty pity, okay? I just-" and there it was, Keith's inability to properly form his genuine affection and concern for Mick. "I just don't want to see you get hurt like that again."

Mick nodded, somber. 

He trusted Keith, he did, he had just felt as though his concern was disingenuous; up until Keith proved to him he did in fact care. Mick had a few experiences with supposed friends like that. They'd offer their sympathy to his hardships one day, then turn the other way the day after. That's what he got for not acting like a strong and stable boy, empty concern then a "toughen up" afterwards. How he was able to get real and genuine concern from Keith of all people was strange, at least to him. 

Even Mick had forgotten why he had chose to maintain a friendship with the other boy. It was clear that Keith was on board with being his friend, but to be genuinely concerned with his wellbeing wasn't expected. When he had thought Keith would dismiss his weakness with cold silence, instead, Keith was there, telling him he cared, even though his responses were subtle; it was almost amusing as to how Keith tried to act all cool when expressing his worry, that was one thing he had to work on, but other than that, Mick felt relieved.

During classes, the boys stayed in their seperate groups as usual. Mick could recall parting ways with Keith in the morning, where he also got a few threatening glares from the boys who had beat him up the day before. He paid no attention to it, seeing how Keith was there to keep an eye out for him. It felt nice to be protected, in a way. Of course Mick could stand up for himself, but definitely not to a group; that's when Keith came in.

Brian had been doing nothing but sweetening up to Anita the best he could, sugarcoating every little word he told her. How Keith deserved the worst, how she was a goddess in every aspect, only, of course, he said it in the most subtle way possible as to not completely scare her off. He was certain he was getting somewhere. Even if Brian had his own things to focus on, though, he couldn't simply leave his mind to wander when he first saw Mick all bruised up.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?" Brian asked, concern lacing his voice as he approached Mick first. A hand came up to shift the boy's face around to better observe the marks.

Mick recoiled slightly, wincing. "I'm fine. I just ran into some of Keith's mates yesterday."

"Keith's?" Brian repeated, though he seemed more interested in that name rather than the actual culprits.

"Yeah, but I'm alright now, he fixed me up last night. I'll be fine."

Brian shook his head, and pulled Mick to the nearest row of lockers, glancing around. "What if Keith told them to beat you up?"

Mick raised an eyebrow. "What-? He'd never do that."

"You can't be trusting him like this, Mick," Brian said, his voice low. "Yeah, he might spare some sympathy one day, but in the end he'll just leave you in the dirt. You've seen how Anita's been holding up. He might be your friend, but he's still an asshole and you know that."

Mick withdrew the arm that Brian had unconsciously latched onto. "What the hell? Of course I can trust him, what are you going on about.."

Mick couldn't make out the expression on Brian's face. Yes, there was concern, but he could somehow notice something slightly off. He didn't ask. Brian coiled an arm around Mick's elbow and began dragging him to class. The latter simply followed along, glancing around before giving Brian another glare. "It's not safe to be around him. You should start avoiding him, it'll hurt less in the long run." Brian added, not looking back as if he had expected Mick to process it easily.

"What the hell, Brian? You know I trust Keith. You can't just start pulling shit up and saying I have to start staying away from him."

"I'm protecting you, Mick."

"Keith's protecting me..."

The sudden pace that Brian had been walking at had slowed down momentarily as the boy gazed over to face Mick. "You'd trust him over me? You've only known him a few weeks."

Mick hid his obvious irritation that had began to grow as Brian continued to talk. "I trust him enough. He's really not that much of a jerk as you make him out to be. You wouldn't know." Mick broke off from Brian's grip and left the blond's hand to dangle mindlessly at his side; Brian stared on.

"And just when I was trying to look out for you, Mick."

"I know you mean well. But, Keith," Mick looked away, realizing what he was about to say before he had quickly rephrased his words. "He's my friend too, alright? He's not a dick."

"Fine, I don't give a shit." Brian replied, though Mick wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or not. He didn't like how Brian was acting all of a sudden. "Let's at least hang out today."

During lunch, Mick stayed by Brian's side, along with a few other boys that the blond had grouped up with. They seemed friendly enough, but Mick didn't know them, so he didn't care. Frankly, their conversations were quite dull to him. Anita had even stuck around, and Brian leeched off of every word she said. There wasn't much room for Mick to join in with their talking, especially considering how the conversation seemed to revolve around Anita at that point, so he stayed silent, glancing around the cafeteria in hopes of spotting Keith. 

He wondered if Keith was looking for him at their usual spot. Unnecessary guilt washed over Mick. He had attempted to get up from his spot earlier, but clearly Brian didn't want him to as he had told him to sit back down. Speaking of Brian, Mick could hear bits and scattered pieces of their conversation; something of Brian telling Anita how he had gotten beat up, Anita reacting in fake concern. But something told Mick to drown out their words and ignore it. They could despise Keith all they wanted to, and the rumors could keep streaming throughout the school, but Mick was undoubtedly attached to Keith and couldn't possibly see him in a different light. Perhaps Mick liked Keith too much to see him as anything different.

Mick ended up seeing Keith across the cafeteria, though his body language gave off the impression that the boy seemed lonely and standoffish despite the guys that had crowded around him. Mick managed to catch Keith's eye (it was naturally done, for some reason), and flashed him a gentle smile as to which Keith replied with a wink. If Keith kept that up, Mick was sure he'd fall further for him; as if he hadn't done so already.

After their exchange of simply shooting gazes at each other here and there, Keith had attempted to make his way to Mick; only to get pulled off into the crowd by one of his friends. Mick chuckled. Keith could be wearing layers of leather and have a cold stare to top it off, but it didn't change how he'd look at the boy. The last time he could recall falling like that had felt like ages ago. Past girlfriends and short-term boyfriends would forever spiral around Mick's head every now and then. Hell, Mick could recall the times he'd sneak off with boys in his freshman year, only to end up crying to Charlie about them afterwards. His sexuality wasn't something that bothered him; and Mick never really acknowledged it unless someone pointed it out or when he'd fall for someone.

Mick had certainly, and without a doubt, had fallen for Keith a lot earlier than when he had fully established that he did. Perhaps it was just his nearly dramatic fondness for boys, especially boys with a soft side behind a rough demeanor. He couldn't lie to himself and say he had only started fancying Keith that week; Keith was terribly attractive and Mick had only fallen further for his personality. Mick wasn't up to getting attached to Keith; but perhaps he had a chance, after all, he had once mentioned his own run-ins with boys. He couldn't get his hopes up, but it was something. Mick wondered how Keith felt.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself ever since Keith had made a seemingly tougher impact on him. All of a sudden, every face he had once murmured, "I love you," to, had no value.

"Could you take off the bandages?"

Mick hesitantly peeled off one of his bandaids, the one closer to his lip. Before Keith had tended to his wounds the night before, it was an open cut, but thankfully it seemed to be healing alright.

After an uneventful day, with Keith's friends dragging him away from Mick, and Brian dragging Mick away from Keith, the boys finally found some peace from their separate flats. Keith leaned only slightly out his open window to squint at Mick's cuts and bruises. "It might be a while before they go away completely."

Mick sighed, as his fingers grazed over the marks absentmindedly. "I hope so. Charlie checks on them almost every hour."

Keith found a lone cigarette to the side of his windowsill and pretended to take a drag. He made a gesture as if to tell Mick to wait for a second before he ducked away from Mick's sight suddenly. He then came back up holding a medium-sized box of what appeared to be paints. Mick noticed the faded colors on the box as Keith positioned himself to aim it into the open window across from his. Mick stepped to the side, not willing to get hit by it; Keith wasn't the best shot, but he managed to land it inside Mick's flat. The latter was quick to scramble to the floor and pop up with the box of paints in playful triumph. Keith clapped and cheered childishly.

"For me? You didn't have to." Mick smiled and turned the box in his hand, hearing the rattle of a few paintbrushes inside the wood.

"It was on sale. I thought of you."

It was sickeningly sweet, sweet to the point where Mick felt obliged to say something just as sweet in return, but he didn't say a word and instead admired the decent paints. He looked back up at Keith after setting it to the side.

"Thanks... I really appreciate it. I'll probably be using it a lot more than my other supplies," Mick admitted, looking to the side.

Keith shrugged and flicked his cigarette to the side exaggeratedly. It couldn't hide the obvious lovestruck gaze he had permanently set on Mick, though. He hated it. "You better. I used my own money."

"I would think Anita had helped you." Mick poked. 

Keith didn't reply. 

"Oh," Mick started. "Well I thought you've talked to her already."

"I don't think you realize how much I'd like to end off things with her." Keith said, in clear exasperation. 

Mick raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd talk to her first?"

"It's a lost cause. I guess– I guess I could try tomorrow."

"She's your girlfriend, Keith. She has to understand." Mick shook his head. Although he wasn't able to physically comfort Keith, usually it being snuggling up to the other, he hoped his words could somehow bring reassurance. 

The distance between their flats felt abnormally far; even if they were at a fair distance away from each other.

"I just.. I just don't know what to say. I don't know what to do." Keith murmured, loud enough for Mick to hear.

"Talk to her, Keith. You'll feel better. Then you could work from there."

"She'll just react the same way."

"You don't know that." Mick urged on.

"I wouldn't know... I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty!!! anyway this isnt the only time keiths gonna cry, i wanna put them thru the worst and its all going down next chapter!! ^____^ anyway, this has to be really brief, but thanks 2 those who've decided 2 stick around and thank u for the continuous support💖

**Author's Note:**

> my first multi-chaptered glimmer twins fic, inspired by another very talented author who writes beautiful works for these two :) you know who you are!


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